


Miracle of Deliverance

by Ellia Bronsky (Ellia_Bronsky)



Series: Miracle of Deliverance [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellia_Bronsky/pseuds/Ellia%20Bronsky
Summary: Hary Potter gets captured by Death Eaters. An accidental encounter during his time in captivity leads to an unexpected outcome, as well as some shocking revelations turning Harry's world upside down.AU in terms of 6&7 parts of the HP saga.My first attempt at MPreg, and I strive towards more serious approach to the topic, or at least try to include more fluff and romance, than outright crack.P.S. Again I write on the go, meaning there is no clear plan for this fanfic.Warning:The reason for the rating is right there at the very start! Beware! Most of the first chapter includes a long and thorough sex scene. I'd call it a rape scene, but there is a hint of consent in there somewhere. You just need to squint more >__<





	1. I

**Author Notes:** _The title of this fanfic was not random, as I don't do random titles XD. It could be interpreted literary (in relation to the main theme of the fic), or you could look up the Churchil's Speech after the famous Dunkirk evacuation, "We shall fight on the beaches", where he said the phrase comprising this fic title. Churchil was referring to the rescue of the Allied soldiers, and this, too, fits the text well._

* * *

He ran. Trees creaked, bows shooting in front of him, making him dodge and jump aside. Leaves rustled under his slipping feet. He continued running. Wind blew, ruffling his hair, throwing loose strands into his eyes. He still ran. Rain poured over the darkening forest, its sounds muffling his steps, erasing his traces from hardly visible path winding through the bushes, their thorns scraping his arms and face, leaving ugly marks on his cheeks.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of wild running, random Apparating and again running. He was almost anticipating the moment when his energy would run out and he would be caught. At least it would mean no more running. They would kill him, surely. Just two simple words and everything would be over.

Nevertheless, he still wasn’t ready to give up. Not hope, as he ceased hoping when he was caught that first time, almost a month ago. But he simply refused to stop and wait for the inevitable calmly and obediently like a good boy.

He would run till his legs would refuse to carry him and his heart would stop in his chest. Not earlier.

He was a survivor all his life and he was not going to stop being one now just because of some stupid joke of fate.

And what a joke it was!

**I.**

A month ago Harry was still at Surrey, Little Winging, trying to live through the usual hell of a summer at his aunt and uncle’s house. He was anticipating the coming of August, or rather the end of July: he was promised to be taken to some safe place away from his relatives on his birthday to remain there for the rest of his summer holidays. But he still had several weeks ahead of him for now before it would happen.

It was evening and he was late from his customary stroll through the neighborhood. If he arrived later than his cousin he would be left without dinner, so Harry sped his steps to catch up and possibly overrun Dudley, who, too, was returning from the meeting with his gang of friends. Suddenly he heard a familiar sound of Apparation, followed by another, and then another one. He saw several dark-clad figures standing just shy of the road he was running up, glimpses of white under their drawn hoods. Death Eaters.

How they managed to learn of his address or why there was no Voldemort among them, Harry didn’t question. He just brandished his wand, which he never left at home these days after disaster at the Department of Mysteries at the end of the school year.

He never got to say even one syllable of any spell – one of the attackers threw something at him, and Harry instinctively caught the object. Familiar pull of a port-key whisked him from the street silently and effectively without any struggle or battle.

* * *

The port-key brought him directly to some dungeon, where he immediately was chained to the wall, his wand taken, together with his clothes. At least, they left him some dignity in the form of his underwear, so he would not be totally humiliated when the time came.

Or so he thought.

Three days later he wished that time came quicker. On the first two days Death Eaters, one after the other, took turns torturing him – Cruciatus, muggle beatings, knives, simple mockery, which in his state was almost as bad as the physical pain they inflicted.

What worried him was that the Dark Lord never came. Either he was afraid that Harry’s luck once again would bring his untimely demise, or he was busy with something more urgent – although, what could be more important than his nemesis’ capture, Harry was afraid to guess.

On the third day he was left on his own. No torture, no mockery, nothing. When fourth day came, he once again was subjected to the visits from every Death Eater there was. This continued for two days, and he was once again left forgotten in the dungeon on his sixth day in captivity.

At the dead of the night, that followed, someone came to him. Pettigrew.

Harry expected another round of torture, or maybe to hear Wormtail slander his parents. Instead he removed the chains, but brought a piece of cloth to Harry’s eyes, blindfolding him. His hands were roped in front of him, but the ropes were not too tight. As if Pettigrew _cared_.

Shuddering at the thought, Harry followed silent nudge forward and, stumbling on every second step, went somewhere.

“Lucius complained about the smell.” Wormtail explained after a while, when they seemingly reached their destination. “You should stay here. Take a bath. I will bring some food while you’re bathing. You will have about two hours, before Lucius comes to take you back. My Lord will surely need me, so I can’t bring you back down myself. Don’t wander the corridors, stay in here. _Please_.”

This last “please” made Harry wonder, whether this escapade was authorised by the Dark Lord. It looked like it wasn’t. Or maybe Wormtail was ordered to simply get rid of the smell somehow, but the rest was his own initiative. Or Lucius’.

Wormtail removed the blindfold and ropes and left him alone in a room. It looked like someone’s private chambers: spacious bed, bookcase and wardrobe occupied most of the room, the rest was taken by the fireplace. Harry briefly wondered if it was connected to the Floo Network, but decided against trying to escape. And anyway he didn’t see any Floo powder and couldn’t conjure or accio some, as he didn’t have his wand.

He turned and saw a half-opened door, leading to the en-suite bathroom. Not too lavish, but comfortable looking tub was the center of it, along with a toilet and wash basin with small mirror above. Nothing grand, but convenient and practical. The décor of both rooms was quite neutral – beige and cream colors and light wood were the main themes, even the décor of the tiles in the bathroom was light faux-wood. And neither the bedroom, nor the bathroom showed anything remotely personal, like a vase, a flower, a picture or some other sign of homely home. Nothing. This could have been a hotel room or just a guest bedroom, but Harry thought he felt something akin to personality nevertheless. The comforter on the bed was just too neatly folded, the poker near the fireplace looked like it was constantly used and shuffled from place to place in front of the hearth, there was a tiny hair in the wash basin, showing that someone was here just recently.

But aside from these visible signs there was also the smell. Masculine musk odor, although very light, barely there, was clinging to the bed sheet, to bath towel and to the clean and seemingly unused robe on the hook in the bathroom. Slight freshness of the aftershave remained in the bathroom, man’s cologne – in the bedroom, shampoo smell was emanating from the bathtub and lingered on the pillow.

This was someone’s private room. Probably, Lucius stayed in here when coming for the Death Eater meetings, if it was truly his idea to make Harry clean. Hell, he would agree to use Snape’s private bathtub, and won’t think twice, as he was really dirty and tired and hungry. Even Voldemort’s chambers were acceptable while they provided him with such an opportunity – 

He winced at the picture he imagined: snake-like bald gray-skinned man, thin and skeleton-like, with red eyes gleaming devilishly, sitting in this simple bathtub, scrubbing his bony legs and in between. Almost choking on a bile which has risen in his throat because of the picture his imagination provided, Harry hurried to draw himself a bath and clean away a week’s worth of grime and slime covering his body.

After washing he quickly ate the meal brought by Wormtail and tiredly got to bed, intending to doze of a bit, making use of the comfort provided by the fluffy bed, before he would be brought back to coldness and roughness of the dungeon.

* * *

He was waken from his slumber by the loudly opened door. Someone stumbled over the threshold clumsily. Harry bolted upright, only to be toppled over on his back again by the man, who barged in and fell on the bed, successfully pinning him to the mattress with a heavy body. The intruder quickly discarded his clothes, not even bothering to get up, and hummed contentedly, making himself comfortable almost on top of Harry.

It seemed, the stranger had not registered his presence, so Harry tried very carefully to get away from under him to hide in bathroom while waiting for Pettigrew to come back. Unfortunately, the man, who, Harry thought, had been asleep already, suddenly felt him with his hands. With a dark satisfied chuckle the man brought his hips forward, grinding into Harry’s pelvis.

Harry gasped in fright and tried to wriggle from his clutches. The man, who was still not uttering anything coherent, aside from occasional moan of pleasure or a sound of satisfaction, grabbed him tighter and continued his ministrations, squeezing, stroking and pinching here and there.

The stranger brought his tongue into play, licking and lapping firstly his neck, then he went upwards to Harry’s jaw and ended all this with a hot kiss, pushing his tongue into Harry’s mouth with force, making him squirm in displeasure, trying to evade the intrusion. One of stranger’s hands found his nipple and twisted it. Another hand stroked his torso and Harry felt it go south, frighteningly close to his private parts, tenderly yet purposefully gliding along his thigh, the man’s thumb almost touching his already half-erect cock. He was still only a teenager and such attentions even from a total and possibly hostile stranger made him hot and bothered.

Shuddering under the other’s touches, Harry still tried to get away, but was abruptly slapped, the place of the impact on his mid-thigh immediately beginning to sting unpleasantly. The man above him growled menacingly and pinched the reddening mark on his leg, making the stinging sensation more powerful.

Harry whimpered in protest, as he felt the other’s hand move, now circling his waist and lowering towards his anus.

The stranger hummed questioningly and, still managing to hold Harry in place with one hand, reached to the nightstand with another, taking something from the drawer.

As the room was only getting darker with each passing minute, Harry couldn’t see either the movements of the stranger or his face clearly, not to mention that he lost his glasses long ago so his vision was far from perfect to begin with as he could see anything even remotely clear only when putting his nose very close to the subject he was looking at.

Suddenly Harry felt the stranger’s hand on his back again, slick and cool finger immediately slithered into him, making him writhe under the man and whine a bit at the unpleasant sensation. The second digit was pushed inside his ass, followed by the third one and soon he could feel four fingers stretching and scissoring his entrance.

Harry let out loud sob, anticipating with dread the inevitable intrusion. If the stranger deemed necessary to put as many as four fingers inside his hole to make it big enough for the penetration, than Harry was horrified to feel the man’s member going inside, as it sure should be quite big! While the stranger prepared him, he still continued to caress him and fondle with Harry’s own erection, bringing him at least some form of pleasure, as unwanted as it was. For some time it almost distracted Harry from the actions at his back, drawing his pleasure-clouded attention to the hand on his cock, at one moment leisurely stroking and at the other second squeezing him almost painfully.

Just as he was brought to completion, spilling his seed all over the man’s chest and his own abdomen, gluing them together with sticky come, Harry felt the stranger’s cock touching his ass, pushing inside with some force in spite of his previous preparation and stretching. Harry cried out, when the man pushed even more with a satisfied grunt, the discomfort from intrusion seemingly growing with each breath and small movement of the other’s thick cock inside him. Harry let out a string of curses, when the man tried to thrust further. The chuckle was his only response. And then the stranger began to thrust in honest, his movements in Harry’s ass making the boy see stars from the pain he felt there.

Harry scraped the stranger’s shoulders, drawing some blood even with his blunt nails, his frantic movements were so forceful.

Still sobbing, Harry tried to put his legs a bit higher in hopes to give the man better access and ease his own discomfort somewhat.

“Wait a moment,” the stranger breathed out, sensing his attempts. And in the next moment he slipped out of Harry completely. Unfortunately, the man only changed their positions, laying on his back and easily lifting Harry on top of him, motioning for him to straddle his reddened and throbbing erection.

There was no way for him to get away now, he realized, as the stranger would surely raise an alarm and everyone would learn of Harry being outside the dungeon.

Supporting himself with trembling hands, Harry carefully lowered himself on the man’s member. The sensations were still not very pleasant, but this way he had at least some control and the position allowed them to have better angle, giving the stranger the opportunity to almost fully sheath himself inside Harry with less pain to his over-stretched ass.

Harry made several chaotic thrusts met halfway with the stranger’s hips going upwards in the attempt to speed up the intercourse.

“Move,” the stranger grumbled, when Harry stilled at one moment trying to adjust their position to ease the tension in his trembling and weakening limbs. Such way was less painful for his ass, but his legs and hands were already giving in, as he did most of the work.

Seeing this, the stranger brought his hands up, helping Harry to ascend on his cock and to go down afterwards.

Breathing heavily Harry arched his back backwards, when suddenly feeling the jolt of pleasure shoot through him with the stranger’s member accidentally brushing his prostate. Gasping Harry almost fell from his place atop of the stranger – he never felt anything like it, all his previous experience consisting only of fantasizing in showers and accidental wanking behind closed curtains in the Hogwarts dormitory at night.

He knew, that in theory such things were possible, but Harry had no time to experiment with his sexuality, only occasionally getting tangled into the talks about girls (and sometimes boys) among teen-aged students of Hogwarts.

Harry whimpered something suspiciously akin to “More!”, embarrassing and surprising himself. Surely, one should not ask for more, when they are being violated?

The stranger gave his customary chuckle, but complied, bringing his hips up angling them just so that Harry felt the same sweet jolt of pleasure going through him again.

Harry tried to return the favor, rushing his up-and-down movements some, swinging his hips involuntarily and dragging a loud and very satisfied moan from the stranger because of this movement. Still in the mood for experimenting Harry swayed his hips some more, making almost circling movement on the stranger’s member. This resulted in an even louder groan followed by several curses and wordless hisses from the man, who seemingly lost the remnants of his self-control and was thrashing and thrusting upwards and forcefully dragging Harry down onto his cock.

Then it was Harry’s turn to moan loudly, as the stranger managed to position them so that his member hit Harry’s prostate almost every other thrust, and at the same time he took Harry’s returned erection in his mouth, circling it with skillful tongue, sucking and humming, sending waves of vibrations along Harry’s cock. This was the proverbial last straw: after a painfully pleasurable minute or so Harry was sobbing, moaning and thrashing on the stranger’s member, successfully dragging him to completion as well with his movements. A long drawn-out groan of them both signaled the joint orgasm.

Feeling his body washed in a wave of strange tingling akin to the sensation he felt, when performing some of the more potent spells and charms, Harry collapsed bonelessly on top of the stranger, the latter hissing with satisfaction and not even bothering to remove his deflated member from the other’s ass.

After several minutes of ringing silence Harry found some leftover strength to prop himself on his elbows and look into the face of the stranger, on the chest of whom he was still lying.

“You okay?” slurred the man, not bothering to open his eyes. “Hope, it wasn’t too painful, hmm? I usually warn ahead, but–” he trailed off when Harry didn’t respond. “Hey,” the man opened his eyes and looked at a boy.

Red eyes widened in shock, as did the green.

Harry paled and recoiled.

Just a moment ago he would have said something incredibly stupid and sappy along the lines of “I liked it anyway” even though technically it was rape and he was captive of the Death Eaters, and this probably was one of them, in other words, his captor. And now – 

Trembling and breathing rapidly, Harry tried to get away, at least partially: Voldemort’s member was still in his ass, and anyway if the other wished so, he easily could snap Harry’s neck with these huge and strong hands or maybe strangle him without much of an effort, not even using a wand and magic.

Instead, though, the man underneath him simply stared, not lifting one finger against him.

Moreover, just as Harry was contemplating a quick dash to the bathroom to lock himself there, the man smirked and lightly raised his hips, as if in demonstration. With dread Harry sensed the man’s cock twitching in his ass, growing bigger with each one of Harry’s trembles and gasps. It seemed, the Dark Lord was getting off on the fear and helplessness of others. Big surprise, that!

Finally strong hands moved – only to adjust Harry, who was still straddling Voldemort’s hips, so that his weakened legs and hands would need to make less work if they repeated the intercourse the same way.

Harry blinked at that. Voldemort making someone comfortable? When he processed the man’s earlier words he realized that they were even more shocking. Voldemort apologizing?! For his big size, no less!

Harry shook his head in disbelief and closed his eyes in defeat.

He suspected this would not end well, even at that moment, when he was brought to this room to bathe and realized that it belonged to someone, so there was no need to feel surprised or to hope for salvation.

He should maybe thank Voldemort that he was not dying a virgin and relay to him his satisfaction despite this being a rape.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes to look at the man underneath him: dark chestnut locks, somewhat angled features, high cheekbones, slightly plump lips. Red eyes. Aside from his eyes, Harry thought, the man was rather handsome and he did not looked his age, his looks reminding Harry of his encounter with a teen-aged Tom Riddle during the Chamber of Secrets incident. But, as just a month ago Harry saw the same man all snake-like and monstrous, these sudden changes surely were a sign of something big going on. Either the Dark Lord found some new source of power or some old knowledge, allowing him to return the looks of his youth instead of ugly and truly Dark-Lordish appearance he sported before.

Well, Harry was not going to complain either way, all the more so, as he was certain that the second round of this non-rape was coming up, and the more handsome partner was the more preferable one.

True to his anticipation, the Dark Lord slightly moved his hips upwards, reminding Harry who was truly in charge, despite him being on top physically.

“This time it won’t be so painful, I promise,” the unexpected tenderness in the Dark Lord’s voice made Harry gape like a fish. “What?” a bit annoyed, asked Voldemort. “I don’t do rape, thank you very much!” he growled. “I was carried away after the Dark ritual and a bottle of good wine, Lucius treated to me! I have you know, I don’t need to violate anybody, they lay under me perfectly willingly!” while explaining all this, the Dark Lord carefully stroked Harry’s thighs and lower abdomen, avoiding his non-existent erection for now.

“As you wish,” smitten, Harry sighed tiredly. “Don’t know why you bother, anyway,” he mumbled.

The Dark Lord chuckled contentedly and continued stroking his legs, knitting tired muscles with strong fingers.

“How did you come here? Last time I checked you was chained in the dungeon.”

“Malfoy. He said I stink.” Harry snorted. “What did he expect, perfume? I was held in your dungeon for five days!”

Voldemort hummed absentmindedly.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, slightly nervous, after several minutes had passed and Voldemort continued just to lazily stroke and massage his legs, arms and abdomen, with his cock still remaining fully sheathed in Harry’s ass, but not moving, aside from his hands.

“Relaxing you. You’re still trembling,” the Dark Lord observed.

“Who wouldn’t? After the forced sex with the drunken Dark Lord anyone would be trembling,” Harry grumbled. Despite this, he felt himself gradually relaxing under Voldemort’s careful touches, his trembles subsiding a notch.

“I apologize,” The said Dark Lord sighed and abruptly slid out of him, shifting so that Harry now was laying on his back underneath him, staring at him wide-eyed.

“Wh-what – ?”

Instead of verbal answer, Voldemort slowly descended on him, trailing a path of quick wet kisses along his jaw, down his throat and lower, kissing his chest, though avoiding his nipples.

Licking and sucking continued, Harry felt soft lips on his belly, then warm breath touched his groin, Voldemort’s mouth was nearing his twitching but still soft member, tricky tongue gliding down his left thigh, then his right one. And again Voldemort avoided the most intimate parts of him, only hinting at possible pleasure, but not granting it.

Now Harry trembled for the completely different reasons, his breath hitching in his throat, when he felt feather-like touch of Voldemort’s lips on his member, immediately bringing him to full hardness. The Dark Lord’s lips collected the precum appearing at the head of his cock, and the next moment Harry gasped and jerked his hips upwards, when his cock was enclosed in warm wetness of Voldemort’s mouth.

The Dark Lord gripped his hips, forcefully holding them in place, and made a humming noise in his throat, sending waves of pleasure to Harry’s member still fully in his mouth.

Harry vision swarm, when that skilled tongue began stroking and circling his cock, low throaty humming of the Dark Lord making vibrations, which sent Harry to the seventh cloud, his toes curling in almost unbearable pleasure. He cried out, all coherent thoughts leaving him, when Voldemort took him even deeper into his throat, simultaneously massaging his balls with one hand and holding his hips down with the other.

When the hot wetness suddenly disappeared, Harry whimpered in protest and managed to lift his head up and look down at the Dark Lord, who now was kneeling between his legs and spreading and lifting them, bringing Harry’s legs to his own shoulders. Voldemort shifted slightly forward, still holding his legs upward and almost effortlessly slid inside him in one swift motion. Harry gasped from sudden intrusion and buckled, instinctively trying to get away. Voldemort bent down and again took Harry in his mouth, not moving his lower body and only sucking Harry for a while.

Harry squirmed and withered underneath his ministrations, lost in the pleasurable sensations and didn’t notice the first thrusts of Voldemort pushing into him. When the Dark Lord was fully inside, he grunted in satisfaction, the vibration from the sound going down his cock bringing Harry to his climax with such force that he blacked out for couple of moments, only to be brought back by the quickening thrusts of Voldemort pounding into him with low growl and still sucking on his already soft member, seemingly turned even more by the soft flesh in his mouth.

After several violent thrusts and some sucking Voldemort at last released Harry’s twitching and again half-erect cock from his lips and concentrated on his own erection, coming in and out of Harry’s still quite tight hole. Speeding up, Voldemort groaned loudly, shoving and pushing deeper one more time before forcefully releasing his seed, which filled Harry to the brim, making him feel a wave of tingling hotness going from his ass to every cell of his tired body. Voldemort tiredly collapsed atop of him, dropping Harry’s legs from his shoulders and landing with his face on Harry’s thigh, near his once again full erection.

“Who’s raping who here?” Voldemort snorted tiredly, his breath making Harry’s cock twitch painfully, growing even harder.

Harry moaned in response, covering his furiously blushing face with his hand.

“Remind me to never again take a hormonal teenager to bed,” the Dark Lord grumbled, bringing his hand to Harry’s member lazily and carefully touching with the tips of his fingers.

Harry whimpered pitifully at the touch. He didn’t think it was possible to become even harder, but that was what was happening. Dark sports swarm in front of his eyes from the tension. He shifted uncomfortably, squirming and trying to move away from the teasing hand.

The Dark Lord let out a trademark chuckle and slowly propped himself on his elbows above Harry’s groin, his arms slightly trembling from the effort, which was not surprising, really, what with two consecutive very tiring orgasms. He gave out a breath, the puff of air touching Harry’s cock drawing another pitiful whimper from the boy.

“New kind of torture?” Harry managed to ask between whimpers.

Voldemort’s eyes gleamed devilishly, his brows wriggling suggestively a couple of times, infernal smirk coming onto his swollen and parched lips.

“Don’t give me ideas,” Voldemort purred.

As his face still was very close to Harry’s groin, his purring brought another wave of torturous air to Harry’s erection, making him moan carnally and jerk his hips upwards uncontrollably.

“Hush,” Voldemort taunted, deliberately choosing yet another airy word.

Harry whined.

Voldemort sighed as if defeated.

Harry groaned.

This was quickly becoming less and less funny, his hard-on was already so painful that it was killing him, and the bastard, whose fault it was, just continued to torture him with his teasing and taunting comments!

At this moment Voldemort finally took the matter into his hands. Literary. His palm encircled Harry’s erection, squeezing it tightly, drawing a loud groan from the boy. Then he began stroking him, his movements painfully slow, as if he couldn’t decide how to proceed or maybe couldn’t remember how to do it properly, with all those willing bodies at his feet he boasted about.

Before Harry found a snide enough comment in his brain, which was already mushy from the pleasure he got, Voldemort let out another sigh and lowered his head to Harry’s groin.

Harry let out a yelp of surprise, when the Dark Lord’s teeth scraped his raging hardness.

“Sorry,” Voldemort hummed around his cock, the motion sending shivers through Harry’s overly sensitive body.

Another wave of pleasure hit him just moment later, when Voldemort did something with his tongue.

With wide eyes Harry looked at the forked long muscle looking like snake’s, into which Voldemort transformed his tongue, rapidly shooting from the man’s mouth for a brief second, encircling his member several times. This was too much for Harry’s immature psyche. When that unbelievably flexible and skilled tongue did something even more tricky on his member, he lost it completely, forceful and long orgasm engulfing him like a stormy wave, dragging loud scream of painful pleasure out of his throat.

Still in the afterglow haze, Harry thought he heard a growling “Fuck!” along with a string of curses in several other languages.

Before Harry collected his thoughts enough to ask what’s happened, he felt the other’s thick cock, fully erect and stonily hard at his own entrance, pushing inside without problem and buried deep inside him in a matter of seconds.

This time he didn’t felt any discomfort. Almost. The Dark Lord’s member still was quite thick, and his anus was not intended for such activities, so this presented a minor complication, as the Dark Lord needed more force to thrust into him and to come out, which he for some reason did almost completely.

Though Harry could agree, that this way the sensations were dragged out for longer and he had a moment between thrusts to catch his breath, before Voldemort fully sheathed inside him again, making him moan and writhe, trying to find the position, which allowed his prostate to be hit. This was happening almost every other thrust, Harry seeing stars and arching his back every time with a groan or gasp.

When Voldemort finally came inside him, a jet of hotness going through Harry together with his seed, they both fell limp on the bed, hardly breathing and moving after the third round of mind-blowing sex and consecutive orgasms.

“I’m spent dry. You sex-monster,” Voldemort grumbled sleepily, not even moving from the place where he fell – half-draped around Harry, his head on the boy’s shoulder and his legs tangled with Harry’s, with one hand across Harry’s torso, successfully hugging him and pining to the bed underneath the Dark Lord. “Don’t you dare run!” Voldemort slurred, immediately falling asleep. Harry followed suit just mere seconds afterwards, too tired to think of anything.

* * *

Several hours later Harry awoke in the same position – in the Dark Lord’s embrace, but there was someone else in the room – Wormtail. He was trembling like a leaf and stuttering, when he whispered that he would help Harry escape.

Harry didn’t think twice and at that moment didn’t remember half-threat and half-plead, uttered by the Dark Lord before they both fell asleep. He carefully untangled himself from the sleeping form of the Dark Lord, put on the clothes, which Wormtail brought him, and left the room and the mansion all together, led by Pettigrew.

The Rat stuttered something about the life-debt he owned to Harry and to the memory of his parents, but Harry, still in a daze, ignored him.

Pettigrew brought him outside, to the boundary of the Anti-apparation Wards and bid good-bye. And after this Harry ran.

* * *

Now, after almost three weeks of running he was dead-tired and almost ready to just surrender. He knew he was chased by the Death Eaters sent for him by the furious and horny Dark Lord.

The latter fact was confirmed, when Harry accidentally fell asleep during one of the first few nights of running and saw into Voldemort’s mind, feeling his body, as if he was the man himself.

Moreover Voldemort was beyond angry, sending Cruciatus and other Unforgivables right and left, just for the wrong breath of his stupid followers. Wormtail was nowhere to bee seen, probably dead. Lucius, too, was out of his Lord’s sight, maybe chasing Harry personally, or attending to the other matters.

What was worse, though, Harry now needed to get away from any member of the Order of the Phoenix, too, as they were chasing him with even more determination than the Death Eaters.

Several days ago Harry at last managed to put enough space between himself and the Dark Lord’s troops to attempt Apparating to Grimmauld Place without the risk of bringing enemies to the threshold of the Order Headquarters. At first all went well, everyone fussing over him, treating his numerous wounds and cuddling him. But then everything went downhill.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments!  
> I hope I wouldn't disappoint you with this chapter :p  
> The next chapter is coming up shortly. I feel like a mad typewriter machine XD This story holds me in its clutches very tight, so you can safely expect two-three more chapters in the very near future. Then I hopefully move onto my other stories at last.
> 
> * * *

It was the third hour of him staying in bed, Madam Pomfrey tending to his injuries and doing various checks of his health, when the mediwitch suddenly stopped in mid-motion, her wand raised above his mid-torso and her eyes trained on the glimmering ghost-like scroll hovering in front of her, where records of Harry’s vitals and state of his injuries were magically appearing. She gasped and shifted her attention to Harry with pitiful look in her eyes, tears already forming in them.

“What is it, Poppy?” Dumbledore, who was also present during the treatment and helping her, asked with worry. “Something’s wrong?”

She just opened and closed her mouth several times, no sound escaping, before she managed to utter something incomprehensible.

“What’s wrong?” now Harry was worried, too.

The mediwitch took a fortifying breath, calming herself, before she finally asked:

“Harry, did they do anything to you? Aside from t-torture, I mean,” she clarified.

Harry blinked, not understanding at first.

“Do to me? Like wha–?” he interrupted himself, suddenly guessing, what she hinted at.

Apparently, medical check showed that he was – 

“Raped. You were raped,” the medi-witch whispered.

Feeling a wave of shame washing over him, making his cheeks red with embarrassment, Harry slid lower on the bed, trying to hide, and covered his face with the blanket.

“It was an accident,” he mumbled, the blanket muffling his voice. “Not a r-rape.”

“Harry,” Madame Pomfrey called, “you don’t need to hide. It was not your fault, dear, I’m sure. No need to feel ashamed.”

Harry just shook his head under the blanket.

“Harry, do you know, who – ?” the mediwitch asked carefully.

“Why?” Harry even lowered the blanket from his face. “Why does it matter?”

“Harry, it should be a real shock to you, and I don’t know how to say it, but – ”

“What is it?”

“You are pregnant, dear!” Madame Pomfrey deadpanned, her eyes even more watery and a sad smile on his lips.

“What?! How?! It – it is impossible! I am a guy! Men don’t get pregnant!” Harry stuttered in shock.

“Harry, no! Of course, it is quite rare, but some wizards can bear children, despite being male. It is not totally impossible, as magic can do real miracles deemed impossible in Muggle world.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, tears filling his eyes.

“Why?” he breathed out in a small voice. “Why is it always me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to held back the hysteria, which was threatening to overwhelm him.

“Harry, do you know the father?” Dumbledore inquired carefully, coming closer to his bed and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Harry gulped, suddenly afraid.

He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was pregnant, but if it was truly possible, if he could bear a child, bring a new life into this world – 

Or should he? After all, he knew, who the father was. Who said that this child wouldn’t be a true heir to the Dark Lord and wouldn’t bring even more misery to the world after growing up? Or maybe it was indeed possible to raise him, or her, in some way, ensuring their harmlessness to the wizards? To raise them like any other kid, shower them with love and affection, so they won’t chose the path of violence and destruction?

And if Harry now would reveal who the father was, what would Dumbledore and the Order do to them both, to the mother and to the baby, too? Would they demand that he’d rid of the baby? Or take him from Harry and somehow use in this war? Raise another Savior? Blackmail the Dark Lord?

Still torn by all these thoughts, Harry shook his head minutely, not acknowledging whether he was willing to reveal the identity or even if he knew it at all.

Of course, technically, he could pretend that he didn’t recognize the man, who violated him, and it wouldn’t even be a complete lie: he learned who he was only after the first round, and if not for the man’s eyes Harry would not be able to recognize him, anyway. Or he could plead ignorance due to there being dark, or him not wearing his glasses – 

He caught himself in mid-thought, realizing that he was trying to avoid the shocking matter of his own pregnancy even inside his own mind. How very Griffindor of him!

“Harry, dear, we can learn the identity of the father with magic, if you don’t know it yet,” Madame Pomfrey supplied carefully. “If you don’t wish to keep the baby there are ways of abortion, although for males they could bring complications, but we – ”

“No.”

“Harry – ”

Harry abruptly realized, that, indeed, he did not care for abortion. He had already made a decision. He was going to keep the baby and raise him or her to the best of his abilities. There was no way he was going to kill the tiny life growing inside him. Never mind the father. Or the way the baby was conceived. Rape or consent – it didn’t matter. He had been alone for so much time already, longing for the true family and love from the moment he’d learned of the existence of such things, at the same time understanding, that what he had was not real family and that the only love he saw was directed towards another.

“My boy, surely, you don’t intend to keep – ?” Dumbledore began.

“Professor Dumbledore, now – ” Madame Pomfrey interjected with indignation. “I don’t think it is your decision to make – ”

“Yeah, I can think for myself, you know! I am not five year old!”

“Mr. Potter!”

“This is my baby and my body!” Harry snarled, seeing as Dumbledore was ready to argue again.

“Harry, my dear, you are still a minor – ”

“No, he is not, Albus,” the mediwitch talked over him strictly. “Firstly, his birthday was just couple of days ago, so he is sixteen already, only a year from his full emancipation, and secondly, Magical Laws are adamant on the issue of a pregnant witches, or wizards for that matter. Pregnancy automatically emancipates a minor, exactly for the reasons of them making their own choices and decisions. You, as a respected member of the Wizengamot with so many titles, should know this better then me! And if I am not mistaken, that law was your own invention!”

Harry just stared wide-eyed, surprised that the stern matron seemed to be on his side in this argument.

“Now-now, Poppy! Don’t be like that. Don’t you see? Mr. Potter is not in the state to make a right decision after all he went through.”

“I am alright,” Harry interjected weakly.

“Please, Poppy,” completely ignoring his protest, Dumbledore gestured to the magical scroll with the diagnosis, “We need to know who the father is, so if you would – ”

The medi-witch pursed her lips in disapproval, but sighed and pointed her wand to Harry’s abdomen, ready to cast the necessary spell.

“It could be a bit uncomfortable, Harry,” gently said Madame Pomfrey.

“W-wait,” Harry raised his hand, stalling her. “I know,” he bit his lip nervously. “I know who – ”

“Well, my boy, let’s hear it,” Dumbledore prompted, his eyes twinkling almost merrily, though Harry didn’t see anything entertaining in the matter.

Harry frowned and sat up straight, gripping the hem of the blanket with clenched fists.

“It’s – The father is – ” he closed his eyes, preparing to the storm to come, and breathed out barely audible: “Voldemort.”

The medi-witch let out a frightened gasp, putting her free hand to her opened mouth in shock.

Dumbledore nodded grimly, as if he’d expected this news, but when it was confirmed, the revelation made him distraught.

“Poppy, the termination spell, please,” firmly requested Headmaster.

“What?! No!!!”

“Albus!”

Harry’s outraged shout was muffled by the furious exclamation of the medi-witch.

“The boy had already said, he does not want to abort the baby, Albus!” the matron continued with raised voice. “I will not participate in this!”

“I am not killing it!” Harry exclaimed. “You have no right!”

“Harry – ”

“No!”

In the next moment Harry jumped out of bed and dashed for the door, pushing the mediwitch, who happened to be in his way, aside.

He didn’t get far, though, before he heard the familiar spell being called out behind him:

“Petrificus Totalus!”

“Headmaster, no!”

At the next second he heard the sound of someone falling to the ground, petrified in his place. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Madame Pomfrey lying on the floor, glaring at the Headmaster angrily, but unable to move.

Dumbledore waived his wand once more, successfully locking the door in front of Harry, who turned to face him with dread in his eyes.

“Professor, please – ” Harry tried.

“Harry, you need to calm down,” said Dumbledore with false tenderness in his voice, his eyes sad and not twinkling anymore. “Listen to me, please.”

“No – ”

“Harry!” the Headmaster raised his voice, not allowing Harry to speak further. “This is unfortunate, but you can not keep the baby, I am afraid. Think yourself who the father is. He will not allow you both to live in peace. He will take this child away from you and lock you in the dungeon again, letting his followers torture you or kill you. This child will be raised by the Dark Lord himself to become a monster, just like his father. Together they will drown the Wizarding world in blood, kill all but Purebloods serving Him! This child should not come into the world! It will be a total disaster, Harry!”

Harry shook his head violently, at the same time making small and hopefully unnoticed steps to the window.

“No, Professor, I think you’re wrong. I will raise the child myself. We will go to the Muggle world, if necessary, run to Australia, or elsewhere. I will love and cherish my baby. No harm will come to him or her, I will ensure it.”

“Harry, the offspring of the Darkest wizard of our times cannot possibly be harmless. He will be dangerous – ”

“You don’t know it. If raised right – ”

“His father is evil, and the child will be as dangerous!”

“Am I evil, too? I am this baby’s father, too, just like Him! Am I a monster? A dangerous animal?”

“Harry, no! Please – ”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Harry jumped through the window, breaking the glass with the impact of his body, shielding his face and head with his hands.

* * *

His jump was an act of desperation and Harry was very glad, that his luck kicked in at that moment, so he only sprained his ankle, when landing. He took off almost immediately, limping at first and then running through the streets of London for sometime, before he collected enough energy to try Apparating. Thanks to Madame Pomfrey, most of his more serious injuries from the earlier time were healed right after he appeared at Grimmauld Place, but his body was still in poor condition after the torture and consecutive running for several weeks.

And now he had not only the Death Eaters, but the Order of the Phoenix on his heels, as well. And nowhere to go, because, he was sure, Dumbledore had already persuaded everyone, assuring them of Harry’s “treachery”, maybe, he talked even to the Weasleys and Hermione. And even if they were not convinced, Harry didn’t have the right to endanger them, as Death Eaters would be only glad for his help in locating a family of “blood-traitors” or a muggleborn, in order to kill them off.

His fears about the Order were confirmed on the very same day, when he faced Kingsley Shacklebot and Tonks after yet another random Apparation.

He was lucky as the Aurors were even more surprised, then Harry, by this accidental meeting, so he quickly turned on the spot, disappearing right under their raising wands. Judging by Kingsley’s wand movement, he was ready for the fight, preparing to cast either Stupefy or some other similar spell.

Due to two Apparations in a row, Harry was almost drained of his energy, as Aparation without a wand was very tricky and power consuming, almost half of the magic just going into thin air without the wand to help focus it. So he again started to run, just to move from the sport he Apparated to, to change his location as quickly as possible, before the Aurors would be able to trace his magic and follow him here.

  


Ten hours later he was still running, his pace slower due to his fatigue, but steady. He was yet to accumulate enough energy to Apparate to the other county, and anyway he was limited to the places he’d known of and been to, or at least seen before, because he hadn’t yet learned how to do it other way, beside imagining his destination in his mind.

Harry hit his toe, stumbling upon some unnoticed stone, when he heard the familiar ‘crack’, followed by two more Apparation sounds. Cursing under his breath he dove into the nearest bush, hoping it will hide him from view of the men, who just arrived here. In a couple of minutes they appeared on the road he was hiding beside, rounding the group of trees, obscuring the view.

Tonks and Kingsley were accompanied by Lupin, who was sniffling like a dog with a running nose, obviously seeking for Harry’s smell.

Harry felt a pang of pain in his chest at the betrayal of a man he deemed his friend and as close to family as he could be.

“Are you sure, the trail went here?” asked Lupin.

Shacklebot grumbled something under his breath, possibly in confirmation.

“I still don’t get why we should chase Harry, like he is some kind of criminal!” Tonks protested.

“Dumbledore said that Harry’s not himself at the moment,” admonished Kingsley. “Probably he is under Imperius or some other Dark spell.”

“Harry was able to throw that spell from the early age, though,” reminded him Lupin. “I don’t know what had got into the old man to order us to chase after Harry. He regards him as his own grandson, you know.”

“For the Greater Good, he said,” grumbled Kingsley. “As usual. And Moody supported him.”

“As usual,” Tonks quipped in. “Although, why Sirius agreed, I don’t understand.”

“Did he?” Lupin raised a surprised brow, but abruptly sniffed the air several times. “I think – ”

At that second Harry dashed through the bushes, away from the road and his friends hunting him, ignoring loud noise he made on his way. As he had been already discovered, there was no point in hiding anymore, he just needed to get as further away, as his legs would carry him. He heard Lupin calling his name behind his back, Kingsley once again throwing Stupefy at him and Tonks shouting something incomprehensible. But Harry didn’t turn around, only speeding up his steps more, when he heard that his chasers followed him through the bushes with loud noises of branches snapping and men cursing at stinging thorns.

Desperately trying to get away Harry hadn’t noticed his path coming to a cliff before it was too late. He tried to stop at the very end of the rocky hilltop, but his momentum carried him further, resulting in him falling from the cliff to the creek – 

Harry fell into the cold water with a loud splash, immediately going under from the abruptness of the fall and the shock. The current dragged him down the stream, quickly increasing the distance between Harry and his chasers. He came to the surface a bit later, when his lungs began to ache from the lack of oxygen and his feet cramped from the cold. But all in all he was lucky, not only falling into the river instead of ending as a wet spot on the rocks, but because he avoided yet another confrontation with his former friends and confirmed his suspicions about them.

Dumbledore indeed tried to goad them into chasing Harry, but he was clever enough not to explain the real reason behind his strange decision. Although, Harry could not comprehend why Madame Pomfrey didn’t interfere and explain everything, as then at least Sirius would be on Harry’s side and not on Dumbledore’s. At least, Harry hoped so.

* * *

The river carried him for several hours before the current slowed down enough and Harry managed to emerge from the water, falling face first on the steeply bank breathing heavily and trembling from the cold. After a while he crawled away from the river and into the shadow of the trees, growing along the shore. He knew that lighting a fire was too risky, and he didn’t have any energy left to try magically igniting the flame, even if he’d have his wand on him. As it was, he could only warm himself up by running. So after a short rest Harry got up and started sprinting.

  


Two days later Harry found himself on the outskirts of a small unnamed village. He was sneezing and coughing, had a running nose and trembled from cold, his head aching from a slight fever after his unintended swimming.

He knew, that he should forego his caution for a while, because he needed food and a warm bed, if not medicine to treat his fever, so he decided to risk entering the village. Of course, he didn’t have any money, but he hoped he could pay for the shelter by working in the garden, or by some other manual labor. When he’d get better, that is. As for now – he was swaying on his feet from sickness and tiredness, ready to drop dead any minute.

His headache abruptly strengthened, causing a wave of nausea wash over him, making him stumble on his way. Harry stopped at the wood border, steadying himself on the nearest tree and warily looking around. He hadn’t heard the sound of Apparation, and the place seemed rather peaceful. Although the pounding in his ears was so loud he could have easily missed the telltale ‘crack’.

Just as Harry decided, that he was simply overly paranoid, and made a step towards the houses, visible in the distance, he heard the rustling of the dry leaves under someone’s feet not very far from him.

He whirled around, frantically looking into the shadows of the evening forest. Nothing. There was nothing. Just his imagination going wild – 

At that very moment his head erupted with pain and the dark familiar figure emerged from under the trees, slitted red eyes glinting in twilight, pale bold head reflecting the last rays of sun, lipless mouth stretching in a satisfied smirk.

* * *

Harry felt dizziness overcoming him, his headache increasing tenfold, making him more nauseous. He swayed under the furious gaze of the snake-looking Dark Lord, tried to lean on the tree, but his knees buckled, refusing to held him upright. With a soft tired sigh Harry slumped down, his consciousness leaving him, even before his body had hit the ground.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I won't disappoint you all with the following chapters. I am really gratefull and glad to see all the feedback, being it number of views, kudos or comments, and want to thank each and every one of you for all of these!  
> I have several more chapters, but I still like to have a chapter or two ready while I write the next so that I'll have something for you to read if I'd get stuck mid-chapter.  
> Enjoy and don't forget to leave a word or several in comments! Your support makes me write more and more, you know! <3<3<3
> 
> * * *

He came to his senses with a low moan, his limbs trembling from cold and his body aching all over. His head was ringing and his vision swayed, but he still managed to recognise the familiar dungeon cell, in which he’d spent so many nightmarish days during his captivity a month ago. It seemed nothing had changed. If not for his fever, he could have thought the past month was just his dream, a fantasy about being free. Ah, wait! The fever even fitted into the picture. He could have become feverish because of the torture, for example.

Harry snorted derisively, the snort turning to hysterical giggles. The next moment he let out the hoarse laugh, but abruptly stopped, hearing the echo of his own voice, which made his headache worsen and made him feel even more sick to his stomach, than he was earlier.

He tried to take a deep breath to calm the nausea, but the smell of the dungeon – the lingering odor of old blood, sweat and other bodily liquids – caused him to gag on the air, quickly shutting his mouth. He never was more glad that his nose was clogged because of cold.

While Harry was fighting with his sickness, someone came to the outside of his cell.

“Have you finally lost your mind, Potter?” drawled the familiar voice. “Were you laughing just now?”

Harry snapped his head up and saw Lucius Malfoy beside the bars, scrutinising him as if he was some strange and dangerous animal.

“Think what you want, Malfoy,” Harry responded hoarsely and lowered his head in dismissal. He was not going to take the bait, Malfoy was not worth it. On the other hand, if it was Voldemort standing there – 

Though Harry was not ready to face the Dark Lord, either. Not with Harry’s _condition_. He still debated whether he should tell his “big news”. No one could predict how Voldemort would take it. He might kill Harry on the spot, just for suggesting such a thing. Or he could – 

Harry stopped his treacherous thoughts. Now was not the time for futile hopes. Firstly he needed to break free, get away, preferably as far as possible. And then, and only then, he could consider telling Voldemort about _it_. But not before he’d put as big a distance between the Dark Lord and his baby, as the world could allow him. If he was treated like this after their accidental sex, which the Dark Lord seemed to like, he was not risking the baby’s life. Australia seemed more and more appealing as a refuge destination with each breath he took of this bloody dungeon’ air.

“Potter!” Malfoy called out.

Harry ignored him in favour of a coughing fit which shook his body.

“Is it contagious?” Malfoy drawled with disdain.

Harry purposely turned his head towards the voice and sneezed loudly.

Malfoy cursed under his breath and stepped aside from the drops of Harry’s saliva and snot, flying in all directions.

“Potter, cease this immediately!” Malfoy barked.

Harry didn’t comply, as another violent cough made him bend on himself.

“I didn’t even start to torture you!” Malfoy protested. “When did you manage to get sick?”

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Harry spat, again turning away from him.

He thought Malfoy left after this, when the heavy silence fell on his cell. Apparently, he was mistaken, because almost three minutes later he heard the same voice again.

Malfoy uttered one of the lighter diagnostics spells Harry remembered Madam Pomfrey use on him during his last short meeting with the medi-witch.

Shuddering from the feeling of the other’s magic washing over his aching body, Harry hunched his shoulders, trying to get away from the unpleasant sensation.

Malfoy uttered another spell, this time more complex.

Harry suddenly realized with dread that his decision to hide his condition was hopeless. If Malfoy now would learn of the baby, it could lead to awful consequences. He needed to do something and very quickly.

Harry turned to the cell bars, dreading that Malfoy already knew everything, and it was too late.

“Potter, you are running a high fever. Though I suppose you know about that already, don’t you?” Malfoy raised a brow.

“And here I thought it just suddenly became hot in here,” Harry snorted, trying to hide his relief. If Malfoy learnt about the pregnancy he would have acted differently, so Harry was safe for a while. Now he just needed to avoid more potent diagnostic spells, which could allow for the truth to be revealed prematurely. “It must be a result of that dive in the freezing cold river I fell into couple of days ago. So you can rest assured, my sickness has nothing to do with your measly torture.”

“Potter, I could send someone with a medicine – ” Malfoy suggested, surprising him.

Harry blinked confused, then snorted.

“You know you’ve already done everything you could in this area,” Harry said quizzically.

“Mind to explain that?” Malfoy inquired.

“Nah. I don’t feel this generous,” Harry responded. “You can ask Wormtail – Or, wait, he must be dead already after what happened earlier. Then all that’s left is to ask your Lord, I suppose.” Harry giggled a little at the look of utter horror on Malfoy’s face. “If you have the guts, of course. I’d warn you not to, but you wouldn’t listen to my advice, would you?” Harry bared his teeth in a nasty smirk. “So I suggest you prepare for a little friendly Cruciatus form your dear Lord. I heard he is completely off his rails this days, so it might mean a good-bye to you.” Harry’s smirk widened, his eyes glinting with malice.

Malfoy shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re too dauntless for your own good, Potter. Though I would say that is your one trait I could admire you for,” Malfoy added. “But enough of that. I need to make you presentable before escorting to our Lord. So you will take any medicine I deem necessary without a hassle. Do you understand?”

Harry tried to shrug but the chains prevented the motion, ringing merrily.

“If your medicine was brewed by Snape you can drink it yourself.”

Malfoy sighed tiredly.

“If you shower our Lord with your snot it will be you under that Cruciatus you’ve mentioned earlier.”

“I am still not drinking anything. I don’t trust you not to put poison in there somewhere.” Harry replied. “Or not to spit into it, which could be just as poisonous,” he smirked.

Malfoy gritted his teeth.

“You are insufferable. I can see why Severus complains all the time.”

Before Harry could made another biting comment, Malfoy raised his wand again.

“Just don’t do any more medical spells, will you? Your magic is stinking.” Harry complained, scrunching his nose.

Malfoy didn’t acknowledge that he heard his words, instead performing several spells in quick succession.

Harry was surprised to hear only cleaning spells and nothing more.

“What, no torture spells?” he couldn’t help it. That was too strange, and it worried him. Why the Dark Lord needed him to be “presentable” suddenly, when during most of their previous encounters his dirty face and stinking clothes never bothered Voldemort.

“Don’t give me ideas,” snapped Malfoy.

That comment suddenly brought back a wave of memories. Harry tried very hard to forget all that transpired that night in Voldemort’s bedroom, but Lucius’ remark now set free an avalanche of images and emotions he had tightly locked away in the farthest corners of his mind. Squinting his eyes shut Harry let out a shuddering hoarse breath. He didn’t need the hysteria right this moment. On the contrary, if he was to be presented to the Dark Lord he needed all his emotions and thoughts in check, instead of a breakdown.

“Potter, what’s got into you?” The voice of Lucius, laced with something akin to shock, brought Harry back to reality. He blinked, sensing hot moisture on his eyes. “Are you going emotional on me?” asked Malfoy, echoing his thoughts.

“You wish, Malfoy!” Harry snorted. “Your magic stinks so much it makes my eyes burn.”

Malfoy shook his head in amusement.

“You can’t be this touchy, boy. Here. You are ready.”

Harry was itching to ask “for what”, but restrained himself. It won’t do to look desperate and fearful, even if he felt exactly that.

Malfoy brought his wand forward again, but this time he only released Harry of the chains, which had been pinning him to the wall. With a motion of his hand Lucius directed him to walk out of the cell and, consequently, out of the dungeon and up the stairs to the main part of the mansion. Harry obediently complied, though he felt like wrestling Lucius out of his wand and running away. It was still not the time for escape, not with a throng of Death Eaters this place was surely harboring now in the view of the public meeting of Voldemort with his arch nemesis.

* * *

After walking through the corridors of the Dark mansion Malfoy brought Harry to a nondescript door. Harry expected there to be some big hall full of the Death Eaters, probably with a throne of sorts for the Dark Lord to sit regally upon, so he was surprised by the lack of grandeur to the door itself.

He was even more surprised when he saw the room behind that door.

It was an office, simple but comfortable, with a big desk, stiff looking chair behind it and another – in front of it, couple of bookshelves with books, journals and some unknown trinklets on them, several maps on the walls and not one picture – portrait or landscape or still-life – in there. The feeling was familiar: the room looked like it belonged to someone, but there were no personal or homely things in it. And the scent. Yet another familiar trait. Musk and masculine with a hint of freshness to it and notes of that one cologne he tried really hard to forget.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks at the threshold refusing to enter. He was not ready for this. A public meeting with a couple of rounds of humiliating torture while exchanging nasty comments with Voldemort he could survive. But a private talk with more human Tom Riddle he was not prepared to brave yet.

“Potter, what’s wrong?” Malfoy tried to push him inside with his hands, seeing as Harry was just standing there frozen.

“Wh-what is this place?” making a tiny step inside the office, asked Harry.

“This is our Lord’s office, as you can surely see. I don’t know why he deemed necessary to talk to you privately, but I won’t question him. You were right, questioning our Lord will only bring a string of curses and a Cruciatus my way.” Malfoy snorted but his tone was demonstrating his frustration at the matter. “You will wait here. Our Lord will arrive at his own time.” Malfoy turned on his heals, prepared to leave.

“How long?” Harry asked defeated.

“I do not know. You may need to wait for a while, though, as I heard the Dark Lord is in the Ritual room now. And a ritual can last quite long, especially one of those complicated ones our Lord is so fond of.”

Harry just nodded briefly in acceptance of the possibly long wait for the unknown. Anyway, he didn’t have any choice but to wait. He couldn’t even ask to be brought back to the dungeon, as Lucius wouldn’t listen to him. And this place was nicer still, even with the dreadful prospect of a talk with the Dark Lord ahead of him.

Surprising Harry yet again, Lucius suddenly patted him on the shoulder, before briefly squeezing it. Afterwards he simply walked out of the office, not even bothering to lock the door, absolutely sure, that Harry wold not go anywhere, while the mansion was full of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord roamed its halls.

* * *

Several hours passed. When Malfoy left, Harry stood for awhile before finally tiredness overtook him and he slowly approached the chair in front of the desk and sat on it carefully, as if expecting the piece of furniture to spring to life and to bite him. When nothing happened, he relaxed a bit. After an hour of tense waiting he slumped in the chair and nodded off, shuddering and snapping his eyes open at every distant sound he heard. Then he even stopped reacting to every small shuffle outside the office and just slept peacefully for a long time.

So when someone finally came into the office, Harry was snoring wheezily, not minding his surroundings and woke only when felt someone shaking him by his shoulder rather forcefully.

“Potter! Wake up, brat!”

Gasping and immediately coughing from the breath he took, Harry opened his eyes in fright. Surely it was not the Dark Lord waking him up?

Harry looked up at the man shaking him, dread washing over him at the familiar sight of the red eyes on the very human face of Voldemort.

“Only you could have the guts to sleep in my office while waiting for me,” the Dark Lord commented. “You’re drooling,” he smirked, long finger abruptly shooting to Harry’s face and touching the corner of his mouth.

Harry recoiled from the touch, furiously rubbing his mouth on his sleeve and sending an annoyed glare at the Dark Lord.

“Are you drunk again?” Harry inquired with caution.

Voldemort snickered.

“A bit,” he confessed. “These Dark rituals are intoxicating, even without the added feat of a nice wine to finish them with,” he drawled lazily. Then he furrowed his brow at Harry, examining his face and posture. “Are you unwell?”

“What’s in it for you?” retorted Harry. “Are you, too, going to throw at me medical spells?”

“What do you mean by “too”?” the Dark Lord inquired, raising a brow.

“Your right-hand man thinks he makes a good nurse,” Harry complained. “So he tried to get rid of my fever, but – ”

“You have a fever?” Harry was shocked to hear worry in Voldemort’s voice.

“So what? You will kick me out back to the dungeon?” Harry was genuinely curious and a bit afraid: Voldemort was behaving human again, like he did that fateful night. It could not end well, but, on the other hand, this could be his chance for a much needed talk – 

“I will have Severus to tend to your fever. I was hoping for a more lively meeting, of course. But this could wait until you’re well again,” Voldemort mused.

Harry shook his head violently.

“We need to talk!” he blurted out before he could stop himself or run away scared.

Voldemort’s more human approach and his worry together with his slightly inebriated state made Harry finally decide. This was as good time as ever and he was determined now to speak to the Dark Lord about the recent development of their relationship. And hearing the genuine worry in the Dark Lord’s words made Harry’s choice on the matter: Voldemort needed to hear the news. From Harry’s own mouth, not through a letter or a newspaper, Merlin forbid! And preferably as soon as possible, before Harry’s former friends took the issue in their hands and decided for the young parents what to do with the baby.

Of course, Harry was afraid, and he thought that he would not have more energy, if he needed to run again – this time from a furious Dark Lord throwing abortion spells at him, but he suddenly was even more afraid to face this all, while being alone and somewhere at the other end of the world.

“We will talk, if you want it so badly,” Voldemort agreed, distracting Harry from his thoughts. “But firstly we need to do something with your health,” the Dark Lord added, going to the door and opening it. He poked his head out to the corridor and barked out an order to call Snape, before Harry could interfere.

“Wait! That – that’s what we need to talk about!” Harry called after him.

“What do you mean by that?” the Dark Lord closed the door and returned to Harry. “Aren’t you going to talk about that – ?” he waved his hand in the air. “Which teenagers talk about after a night of accidental sex?” he concluded, the word “feelings”, which had remained unsaid, clearly making him uncomfortable.

“That, too,” Harry nodded solemnly. “They are related.”

“Do tell, then,” urged him Voldemort. “How could your poor health possibly be related to the talk after sex?” he raised a brow inquiringly.

“Iampregnantyouarethefather!” Harry let out in one breath.

“And now repeat it slowly, word by each fucking word!” the Dark Lord hissed, suddenly appearing in front of him and lowering his face to Harry’s level to look him in the eyes, his own eyes glinting furiously.

Harry gulped. Squeezed his eyes shut in dread. Tried to move away from the man towering over him. Drawing a breath and thinking it could very well be his last one, Harry finally collected his courage and spoke again in a low voice, barely above a whisper.

“I am pregnant. You are the father.”

“Potter! Don’t give me this nonsense!” Voldemort roared enraged. “Males cannot bear children! And last time I checked you were very much male! If it is some kind of trick – ?”

“No! No, it’s not! I would never – !” Harry cried out exasperated. “Do you think I am mental?! Why would I tell this to you of all people?!”

Voldemort moved out of his private space, but his eyes were still on Harry’s face, frantically looking for a hint of deceit, a joke, anything to explain this impossible, unnatural madness.

“That’s exactly what I am thinking,” he almost whispered hoarsely. “You went completely crazy after that night, that’s the only explanation.” He shook his head tiredly. “I would allow you to rest until your fever subsides and then return you to the dungeon to again make you a target practice for my people.” He turned away from Harry suddenly, as if tired of their talk.

“Tom,” Harry whispered pitifully, looking with longing into his turned back, tears slowly forming in his eyes.

Voldemort’s back twitched, his shoulders hunched, but he did not face Harry, as if defeated by Harry’s supposed delusions.

“This is magical world, don’t you remember?” Harry tried once more. “Miracles do happen.”

“Even I hadn’t ever lowered myself to such level as to play on your feelings, Potter,” the Dark Lord whispered harshly, not turning back to him. “That’s not possible. Not at all.”

Before Harry could have found more convincing arguments, someone knocked at the door carefully.

“Enter!” the Dark Lord barked, his voice still bearing a hint of unknown emotion. Though it turned to normal the second the door opened to reveal Snape.

When Potion Master saw Harry in the Dark Lord’s office, he couldn’t hide his surprise well, startling at the sight, before his usual mask of disdain slipped back on.

“Did you wish to see me, my Lord?” Snape bowed slightly, receiving a curt nod of acknowledgment in response.

“Severus, how are you skills at healing?” the Dark Lord inquired almost regally, looking down his nose at the Potions Master.

When on the snake-like monster such motion looked like it belonged there, on his more human face the disdain seemed almost comical for some reason. Or maybe Harry was just getting used to his more emotional attitude, thus seeing nothing but mockery in those blood-red eyes, when Voldemort’s gaze was directed at someone he deemed a lower being.

“I am no medic, my Lord, but I believe my healing skills to be at least adequate after many years of teaching Potions to stupid children, who blow up cauldrons every time they can.” Snape managed to look superior even when talking to his boss, for some reason. Or, maybe again, Voldemort’s human features were the reason for him not to seem in Snape’s eyes like the scary and awe inspiring Dark Lord he was.

“You may heal Potter here.” The Dark Lord motioned towards Harry, who was still sitting at the chair. “Use the diagnostic spells, too. I would like to see your skills at them as well.” Voldemort suggested.

Snape nodded and raised his wand, pointing it to Harry’s forehead, starting to recite a complex incantation necessary for the diagnostic spell. Harry recognized it – it was that same spell, which Madame Pomfrey used, bringing up the ghostly magical scroll with the medical records appearing on it during examination.

He sighed tiredly and got ready for a long session of diagnostics. With any hope Snape would find out about pregnancy and explain to the Dark Lord its possibility for wizards. It was not the best outcome, as Harry was not sure he would like for Snape to know, but still – 

Snape took a notable intake of breath, his indifferent mask slipping once again. Before he could elaborate on the matter, though, the Dark Lord took it upon himself to peek into the diagnostics scroll. His brow furrowed significantly and he threw a nasty look at Snape, as if suspecting him of forging of the results.

“Care to explain this, Severus?” he hissed. “Were your judgment of your own skills inaccurate?” now he was very much the Dark Lord he was, even without his snake-looks, red eyes glinting angrily and wand already trained on Snape’s form with steady hand.

“Forgive me, my Lord. But the information is drawn by magic itself. I am only casting the spell and cannot possibly influence the outcome.”

“Crucio,” the Dark Lord intoned impassively.

Snape’s left eye twitched, but otherwise he didn’t show any reaction to the pain, staying on his feet with his back upright and body rigid for a whole half-minute, before the curse was lifted.

“Continue,” Voldemort waved his hand towards the scroll.

Snape returned to his task, uttering a line of incantations and moving his wand over Harry’s body. In couple of minutes the scroll glimmered, taking more solid form, and fell to the Potion Master’s outstretched hand. Snape held the parchment out to the Dark Lord with a slight bow.

“Shall I start the healing, then, my Lord?”

“Please, do,” Voldemort nodded, burying his nose in the scroll with a hint of interest on his face.

Snape resumed his wand work, reciting several spells Harry vaguely recognized.

After several long minutes Harry felt his headache recede almost completely along with his feverish shiver. It seemed Snape managed to reduce his sickness to the bearable level at least, if not heal him completely.

“Severus, you are dismissed. Please, contact our people at St. Mungo’s and see if anyone is able to provide assistance with this matter immediately,” Voldemort waved the diagnostics scroll in his hand. “I still find it hard to believe, that such a thing is possible, though,” he added thoughtfully.

“My Lord, if you would allow me, I can explain – ”

“You can try,” Voldemort made an inviting motion with the scroll tightly clutched in his hand.

“While it is true, that Muggle science has no records of male pregnancies occurring, Wizarding world healers, on the other hand, had advanced in this field significantly, as we technically have the means of sustaining such pregnancies by magic. Naturally, the wizard should be very powerful magically to be able to bear children. And the other parent should be at least his equal for his magic to help firstly sire an offspring and then sustain the baby’s life during pregnancy period. Although a life of a baby can be alternatively sustained by a non-blood related wizard of great power being in close proximity with the bearer. This, certainly could put both the baby and the “mother” at risk, and put a huge strain on mother’s magic, but in extreme circumstances it is allowed.”

“So basically if Lucius during his youth had found the courage to stand up to his father we could have had an heir to a Snape line now?” Voldemort inquired with a hint of smile on his lips.

Snape’s face acquired a nice pink tint to it.

“M-my Lord! No, unfortunately, neither Lucius, nor myself wield enough magical power to be able to bear children. I am afraid, in the Wizarding world, as it is now, there are very few men with such amount of magic. In this part of the world, I think, only yourself, and may be Dumbledore, too, can be powerful enough.”

“If one is to believe that cursed prophecy, Potter here has a power, which is equal to mine,” the Dark Lord grunted with reluctance.

Snape nodded.

“That could be the case.”

Voldemort turned to Harry with a scalding hot fury written on his face and spat in Parseltongue:

“ _You, Dumbledore’s whore! You are disgusting! Jumping to that old goat’s bed to play a trick on me!_ ”

Harry cringed, his face reddening at the accusation, and pointed a finger at the Dark Lord.

“ _That was you, who had raped me, remember?!Not him! And I have you know, that “old goat” threatened to kill the baby!_ ”

Now it was time for Voldemort to cringe, his face turning paper-white.

“Severus, is there a fatherhood spell?” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Perform one now!” he snarled, when Snape nodded in confirmation.

The Potions Master shook his head.

“I am afraid, my Lord, I don’t know the incantation,” he confessed. Seeing, that the Dark Lord’s wand hand twitched in preparation for another round of Crucio, Snape supplied, “You can summon Lucius. He has mastered that spell to repel the witches, who tried to wring aliments from him.”

“Very well,” Voldemort grunted. “He hadn’t left the mansion yet, I believe?”

Snape shook his and motioned towards the door.

“I can go search for him.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Dark Lord waved his hand in dismissal and grabbed Snape by his sleeve. “Your Mark, Severus.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Snape obediently brought the sleeve of his robe up, revealing the Dark Mark. Voldemort put his wand to the tattoo, muttering the incantation and sliding the tip of the wand down the lines of the drawing.

During the next several minutes they waited in silence, Harry glaring daggers at the frowning Dark Lord. Snape just stood there impassively, not acknowledging their silent argument.

When Lucius finally arrived, Voldemort was ready to start throwing curses at him just for being slow in his tracks.

“What took you so long, Lucius?”

“My Lord, forgive my lentitude – ”

The Dark Lord waved his hand impatiently.

“Later, Lucius. I have an urgent question for you.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Severus tells me, you know how to cast a fatherhood charm on a child-bearer?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I wish to see it. You can practice the spell on Potter,” Voldemort motioned towards Harry.

Lucius bowed to his Lord and turned towards Harry. Without any preamble he swished his wand a bit theatrically, uttering the words of the spell. Yet another ghostly scroll appeared between them.

Harry felt the other’s magic engulf him, its currents wrapping around his mid-abdomen, stinging like a rough wool cloth. He felt a slight pang of pain just above his navel, similar to the needle’s puncture. The sensation quickly intensified, making him cringe and hiss from a sharp stab of pain growing in his belly. Before the sensation became unbearable, Lucius lifted the spell, the scroll, like the one before, turning from ghostly to that made of real parchment and falling into his hand.

“My Lord,” Lucius gave the paper to Voldemort with a flourish.

“You are both dismissed,” the Dark Lord uttered absentmindedly, after throwing a quick glance at the scroll. “Severus, contact St. Mungo’s people, like I said earlier,” he added as if in an afterthought.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still at a cloud Nine from all your feedback, thank you everyone! And I'm still cosplaying a mad type-writer machine XD and beginning to get lost in comments, as I am way ahead all of you. So I decided to shorten the gap between the posted chapters and those I am curretly working on :p  
> Here is a double feat before the weekend - two chapters in one go for you! Enjoy!  
> And please, leave a word or two, I'd really like to know what do you think about how this story progresses! <3<3<3  
> \------  
> P.S. I'm experimenting with different blog-platforms and trying to make myself comfortable at wordpress and wattpad. Yeah, that's a shameless self-PR >.< . You can find the address at my profile, if interested ;-)
> 
> * * *

“So, do you get it now?” asked Harry, when he and the Dark Lord were left alone again.

“I still find it hard to believe, that the male pregnancies are possible at all, let alone that you are with child. With my child,” Voldemort shook his head bewildered. “I never – ” he cut himself off in mid-sentence. “Are you in any pain? I noticed earlier – ”

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“Malfoy’s magic was – unpleasant, I guess,” he admitted. “What now? Are you going to – ?” he trailed off, not sure what he was referring to. “To me – us – Are you going to kill – ?” even with less surety clumsily finished Harry, cringing nervously under the Dark Lord’s over-attentive glance.

“Harry,” the Dark Lord carefully began, then sighed tiredly and rubbed his forehead as if his head ached. “I might have been not very sensible once, so your suspicions are understandable. But – ” he came closer to Harry and knelt in front of him, taking Harry’s hands in his own. “That’s a child we are talking about, Harry. Children are considered a blessing, and in Wizarding world they are even more sacred, because less and less of them are born each year now, more and more accidents and miscarriages happen each day. I know, I don’t have the right to say this after I tried to take your life, when you yourself were a baby, and numerous times afterwards, but I came to understand this only recently. We need to preserve our numbers, the Wizarding race, but for this we need to breed more, as rude, as it might sound. If I myself can, by some miracle, be allowed to carry my line and to set an example for my people, then I am willing to do all it takes. If the Fate presented me with such an opportunity, despite all that happened, I am ready to cast aside that blasted prophecy, make peace with the Wizarding community and even befriend Dumbledore, if it is necessary for my cause. I cannot promise you that I will suddenly become a nice and kind person, showering everyone with flowers and kisses, but I will do everything in my power to provide only the best for my child. And for the mother, too, of course,” Voldemort managed to produce a small sad smile, a hint of something resembling kindness in his eyes. “We could have started on the wrong footing, I admit, but I am ready to set aside our differences and at least try to be a bit more friendly with you. That is, if you are willing to,” he added with sudden uncertainty.

Harry bit his lip nervously, taking in a shuddering breath. This new Voldemort scared him even more than the drunken sex machine he encountered before. He was even less predictable. It was as if he was the one with a child, with those mood swings and sudden bursts of emotions of his.

“Does it mean, I won’t be going down to that dungeon anymore?” Harry asked with a lopsided grin, his lips trembling.

“Naturally. You will be staying up here. In my quarters. I would understand if you wish to have a separate set of rooms, of course. If so, I will immediately arrange for them to be put together,” the Dark Lord responded with a sad smile of his own. “If it is your desire, I will see to it that we would never see each other during your stay in the mansion,” he added with a slight frown and a trace of undecipherable emotion in his eyes.

Harry thought that glint was akin to jealousy and frustration, but he could not be sure. He shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation:

“Have you not heard, what had Snape said? Father should stay close, so that the baby won’t strain the mother’s magic. Do you want another miscarriage case to add to your little statistical collection?”

Voldemort blanched hearing his cruel suggestion.

“Don’t you ever joke about it!” he whispered harshly. “If it is truly necessary for both parents to stay close to each other for the health of the child, then, of course, I am more than willing to comply! We need to hear what a professional Healer says, then, before we decide our living arrangements,” he concluded.

Harry gave a jerky nod in agreement and suddenly swayed on his chair.

“Whoa!” Voldemort caught him, before Harry could fall to the floor. “You need to rest and you’re still running a slight fever, I could feel. You will stay in my chambers until the Healer arrives,” the Dark Lord scooped Harry in his arms bridal-style and went to the door.

“Wh-what are you doing?!” Harry yelped surprised.

“Hush. I’ll take you to bed. I shudder to think how long you were running both from myself, and from the Order as well, I take it, before I have found you.”

“A month,” Harry mumbled into his shoulder.

Voldemort literary shuddered at this.

“And you had already been carrying a baby inside you,” he grunted. “Unacceptable. My child shall not be crippled because of that old goat’s actions!” he hissed with quiet fury and a hint of self-loathing in his voice, making Harry cringe in his arms.

* * *

Two hours later Harry was slumbering lightly, laying on the Dark Lord’s bed, with the man himself sitting beside with a book in his lap. There was a careful knock at the door, startling both of them, Harry bolting upright abruptly and the Dark Lord dropping his book to the floor with a low thud.

“Enter,” Voldemort urged.

The door opened, letting inside a sour-looking Snape and a short plump man, clad in light-gray robes.

“My Lord, this is the Healer Algie,” Snape introduced. “I know his persona is not to your liking, but I am afraid this is the only option for now, as our other Healer is indisposed at the moment, so – ”

“I don’t mind,” the Dark Lord waved a hand impatiently. “He would suffice, at least until Harry says otherwise.”

Snape tried to suppress his shock at hearing that.

“My Lord?”

“Thank you, Severus. You may leave,” clearly dismissing him, Voldemort turned to the Healer. “Is this room suitable for you to work in or should I arrange a separate one?”

“W-well, it depends on what you need me to do, my Lord,” replied Algie with trepidation.

The Dark Lord indicated towards the bed:

“This is your task, Algernon. I am certain, Harry has slight fever, as for the rest – you will need to see for yourself. Severus might have overlooked something, as he is not a professional medi-wizard. And there is another delicate matter, but again you will need to check first.”

“You still don’t believe it, don’t you?” grumbled Harry with annoyance.

Voldemort just shook his head.

“Never hurts to hear a second opinion. You may begin, Algernon.”

“Ye-yes, my Lord,” the Healer mumbled and turned his full attention to Harry, finally understanding, that the Dark Lord had no intention to let him work without his own supervision.

Algie began to wave his wand over Harry in familiar patterns, running diagnostic spells, another ghostly scroll recording the process. Almost an hour passed, before the thorough examination was completed. Despite the low regard of the Dark Lord, Algie was rather skillful and true to his profession, so he didn’t let out any inappropriate emotions during the whole ordeal, even when discovering, that Harry was pregnant. The only indication of him noticing Harry’s unusual condition was a slight widening of his eyes, when seeing the words appear on the scroll, which was quickly masked by a polite indifference and a soft impersonal smile. After finishing up with diagnostics, Algie raised an inquiring brow at Harry and started to list out his findings in soft and caring voice.

“Aside from minor fever, exhaustion and undernourishment, I can see no other problems. Severus can surely supply you with the potions necessary for your cold and nutrition. And you also would need good twenty-something hours of sleep. That is all. Unless you would like me to get rid of the baby. Though I would advice against it, as you are quite far in your pregnancy already, so abortion could be potentially dangerous for your health and magic alike.”

When Algie began speaking of abortion, Harry instinctively backed away from him, as if afraid. Algie furrowed at that and turned to the Dark Lord with a question:

“What would you like me to do, my Lord? Should I get rid of the spawn?” he asked, his voice suddenly cold and devoid of any hint of emotion. “Or do you wish to know who is the father, first?”

“Yes,” the Dark Lord gritted through clenched teeth.

Harry sighed. He wouldn’t be surprised, if Voldemort asked to perform a Muggle DNA test after that, just to be absolutely sure. Despite his heated speech earlier, he clearly still doubted that it was his baby, and refused to acknowledge it as such before getting all the possible evidence. Resigned, Harry collected himself, remembering the unpleasantness of the same spell cast on him just recently.

The Healer, however, didn’t make any grand movements with his wand, nor he warned Harry, that it could be uncomfortable, like Madame Pomfrey had done previously. Instead he conjured another magic scroll and tapped lightly on Harry’s mid-section at a point slightly above his navel. Harry felt a warm tingling sensation rush over his belly quickly, the golden shimmer appearing in the air above it for a couple of seconds, before it dissipated with a soft ringing sound, leaving Harry a bit lightheaded for some reason. Aside from that he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary this time – no stinging pain or itching of an invisible wool blanket.

Algie hummed in satisfaction and tapped the scroll, hovering in front of his eyes, with his wand, making it turn towards the Dark Lord, who was looming behind Algie’s shoulder impatiently, watching his movements like a hawk, during the test.

“Here, my Lord, you can see for yourself. The parents are listed here, as well as the vitals of the foetus.”

Voldemort sent a brief suspicious glance at Harry first, before turning his attention to the scroll hovering in the air. His eyes locked on one of the written lines and he paled considerably, suddenly stumbling on his feet. He made a step backwards, collapsing in the nearby chair in shock, and turned his burning gaze towards Harry.

“Are you going to ask for a DNA test now?” Harry snapped, not understanding Voldemort’s reaction. “Don’t you believe it yet?”

The Dark Lord silently shook his head, still pale as a ghost, the pupils of his red wide-opened eyes dilated.

“Breathe, Tom,” Harry advised snidely, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Are you going to faint?” he added with a trace of worry, when the Dark Lord continued to stare at him, his pupils more and more dilated with each second.

“M-my Lord?” Algie quipped in carefully.

“Algie, you better do something, or he’ll seriously faint on you,” Harry said. “What’s written in there? Why is he so scared?”

Algie gaped at Harry’s bold claim – apparently, no man ever saw dreadful Voldemort being this frightened and lived to tell the tale afterwards.

With a silent swish of his wand Algie sent the scroll towards Harry, and produced a small vial out of his pocket, uncorking it and bringing under the Dark Lord’s nose.

Voldemort suddenly took a loud intake of air, immediately sneezing and starting to cough, while simultaneously trying to raise his wand and curse the Healer.

“Tom!” Harry called out, grinning from ear to ear and tears of joy running down his cheeks. “We have twins!!!”

The Dark Lord slumped down in his chair, dropping his wand hand on his knee, never managing to curse the Healer before Harry’s shout distracted him.

“I’ve read that, you imp,” he slurred in a low hoarse voice tiredly, then got up and came to the bed, swishing his wand on his way – healer Algie was unceremoniously thrown out of the room with a grunt of “Don’t leave yet!”, the door slamming shut behind his back.

The Dark Lord collapsed on the bed beside Harry and pointed to the scroll.

“Let me see that again,” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Harry held the parchment up, his hand slightly trembling, and recited: “Parents: Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter.”

“No, not that part,” Voldemort, or rather Tom, chuckled.

“The development of the foetus is stable, two heads and two heart rates are observed – ” Harry continued to read.

Tom let out a soft joyous laugh, putting one hand around Harry’s shoulders and bringing him closer, his other hand going down to Harry’s still flat belly and caressing him there.

“Twins,” he whispered in bewilderment. “Do I really deserve this miracle?” he wondered, his voice quivering.

Harry looked up at his face, tears similar to his own glistening on Tom’s cheeks and a gentle smile on his trembling lips. Suddenly Tom lowered his head, bringing his lips to Harry’s mouth, and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” Tom breathed out. “Thank you, that you kept the baby. Thank you, that you ran from the Order. Thank you, that you came to my room that night. Thank you – ”

He kissed Harry on both of his cheeks, taking away his tears, then put an open-mouthed kiss on Harry’s forehead – on his bolting scar, all the while repeating in the heated whispers “thank you” a million of times.

Harry was at a loss for words, not knowing how to respond to this tenderness, coming from this man – he didn’t know anymore, what to call him: enemy? ally? partner? Should he refer to him as Voldemort? Or just Tom? This was the father of his children, but what they were to each other? What had they become? And didn’t he just recently honestly warned Harry that he is unable of sweetness and kindness? Then why he was so tender and loving all of a sudden?

Harry sighed quietly and shifted in Tom’s arms, his movements careful and uncertain. He was scared of the abrupt affection the Dark Lord showed him with, but he was even more afraid of a possible rejection, if he moved wrongly or said something, which the man deemed inappropriate or unnecessary.

Finally Tom let out a contended sigh and shifted, so that now he was half-sitting, with his back supported by the headboard, still holding Harry in loose embrace, with him leaning on Tom’s shoulder. Tom waved his wand towards the door, opening it, and called out “Algernon!”

The Healer stepped inside carefully and looked at the pair on the bed with worry.

“My Lord?”

* * *

“You may enter,” the Dark Lord gave one of his trademark regal nods to the Healer.

“May I congratulate you, my Lord?” the Healer asked with even more caution.

“You may,” Voldemort snorted.

“Then receive my sincere congratulations, my Lords Voldemort, Petite-Mort!” Algie beamed at them both in turn, his grin wide and genuine, ignoring the Dark Lord’s snickering. “A brand new miracle to call your own! As new parents may you be filled with much joy and happiness with the arrival of your new babies. I wish you and your future children many years of good health, love, and peace!” Algie bowed to them both with a flourish to his movements. Harry couldn’t hide his own smile at hearing that, a new flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Since the moment he’d learned of his pregnancy that was the first time someone actually congratulated him sincerely instead of threatening his own life or a life of an unborn baby. Harry tried to suppress his tears, but they started to fall down his cheeks all the same. He sniffed miserably, hiding his flushed face in the shoulder of Tom, who looked down at him surprised.

“Thank you, Algernon,” he said absently, caressing Harry’s shoulder, where his hand rested in a loose embrace, seemingly at a loss. Raising his head towards Algie, the Dark lord mouthed: “What do I do?” with discomfiture.

Algie silently moved his hand in the air, as if caressing invisible object, then shrugged, obviously uncomfortable at teaching his Lord how to show affection.

The Dark Lord sighed and continued to stroke Harry’s shoulder and back in awkward gestures.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” he inquired softly.

Harry mumbled something into his shoulder.

“What do you mean by “first”?” Not understanding, clarified Voldemort.

Sniffing, Harry finally showed his face.

“Thank you, Algie. Forgive me, that should be those telltale hormones working,” he muttered in embarrassment. “It was the first time that someone congratulated me instead of throwing curses my way,” he explained, still a bit pink in the face. “And what’s with that “ _putee-morrh_ ”?” he asked in bewilderment.

Algie grinned, Voldemort snickering again at Harry’s antics.

“That’s French, ‘ _Petite Mort_ ’,” the Dark Lord corrected him, when he managed to stop laughing. “You can look it up later.” Still snorting, he nodded to Algie. “Very fitting, I must admit.”

Algie’s grin turned from uncertain to understanding.

“Well, then. I think, I need to explain the details to you now,” the Healer’s professional air returned. “Male pregnancies slightly differ from the traditional ones. One of the more drastic differences is that a baby, or babies, in your case, literary live off the surrounding magic. Of course, they also rely on their mother’s condition and strength, but the magic is more vital for them. Hence such occurrences are rare – only very potent magic can support a baby in an artificial womb, conjured with the help of both parents’ magic. 

The womb itself resembles the extra dimension often used to expand personal spaces, like tents, or trunks, or purses of wizards, as it is, too, “neither here, nor there”, so to speak. I will not go into scientific details now, but you can read this all in the books I will bring on my next visit.

What is important now is that babies will take all the magic they can reach to survive during pregnancy. So it is vital for both parents to be as close to each other as possible, especially during first three months. Basically, you need to be within an arm’s reach of each other at all times through out day and night. And I am not exaggerating here! We are talking about twins, and during the first month you were separated, which should have put an enormous strain on a mother’s magic.

You were suffering from numerous drains of magic all the time, weren’t you, Harry? Maybe, you regarded it as simple tiredness, as, I understand, you were on the run. But that was babies feeding off your magic. Also, due to your overexertion during this month, the babies relied on the pure magic even more, because they didn’t receive any nutrients through traditional ways. As I’ve already mentioned, you yourself are suffering from undernourishment and fatigue, and this also affects your babies.

From now on there shouldn’t be any stress, running, or starvation, do you understand me?

My Lord, from this moment on Harry should be treated as a fragile crystal vase, if you want to see your babies’ newborn faces happy and healthy. And you should not let him out of your hands, almost literary. The more of your powerful magic the better for the twins. Also I’d advise to have several more powerful wizards around. Their magic will, too, support your twins.”

“How they get this magic, Algernon? Should I or other wizards around Harry constantly conjure something or perform spells?”

“No, no, my Lord. The mere presence is enough. Babies are feeding and taking in only mother’s magic, and this happens without the interference. As if they drink from the magical aura itself, instead of absorbing the magical flow from the core of a wizard. The drains I have mentioned are the extreme measure, occurring only, when the baby don’t get enough nutrients like any baby out there, with male or female mother.”

“What of the physical activities? You said no running, but – ” inquired the Dark Lord curiously.

“Oh, I only meant this as in ‘running around in the wild’,” Algie smirked with understanding. “After couple of days our young Lord would be as good as new, I hope, so any form of physical activity would only be advantageous.”

“What of – ”

“I mean absolutely any form,” Algie snickered, wriggling his brows suggestively, then turned serious, “But not before young Lord regains his strength and health. We are talking about another two-three days here. Well, if you don’t have anymore questions – ?” he concluded questioningly.

“Harry? Do you have any questions?” Tom asked gently.

Harry shook his head minutely.

“I am good. I would gladly read more, but – ” he trailed off, yawning.

“Perfectly understandable,” Algie nodded. “I can send you the books I’ve mentioned even before my next visit, so I would be able to explain everything in more detail and answer any questions you could get after the reading, yes?”

“That would be great,” Harry agreed, smiling at the Healer.

“Then the last advice for today, my Lords. Rest. Both of you. My Lords Voldemort, Petite Mort,” Algie bowed again and left.

“What do you think of him, hmm?” Tom inquired.

“I like him,” Harry grinned. “He is good. For you, too, I see,” he added, because the Dark Lord snuggled, shifting lower on the bed at that moment, intending to sleep, as the Healer advised. Tom covered them both with the blanket he summoned from the wardrobe, and Harry let himself drift to sleep in the Dark Lord’s arms peacefully.

* * *

_He ran. Twigs scraped his arms. Logs tripped him. Damp leaves under his feet made him slip several times. He still ran. Darkness slowly engulfed the forest around him. Now every bush and tree leaped on his path unexpectedly. He continued his mad running despite all that. He needed to put as much distance between his pursuers as possible while he still could. Another hour or so, before his legs give under him and he would crawl in some hole to get much needed sleep. Though that, too, was restless. His always ended up waking after couple of hours of nightmares full of torture and returned back on his track._

* * *

Harry was roughly yanked from his nightmare because of a loud noise. He didn’t understand at first what woke him, but when he heard a soft whimper beside him, the sound turning to a more obvious sob, he remembered that there should be another man in the bed with him. They were not snuggling together anymore, but Harry felt the other’s breath on his own neck. The face of the Dark Lord was pressed into his shoulder and he was clutching Harry’s arm almost painfully.

The Dark Lord shifted restlessly in his sleep, another small cry emerging from his throat.

Harry reached to him, but caught himself in mid-motion. He doubted that the Dark Lord would be overjoyed that someone witnessed his weakness. He surely would react first and think later, and with his tendency to give out Cruciatus left and right like cookies, the situation could become very ugly rather quickly.

Harry was still contemplating whether he should wake Voldemort or leave him fight his demons. While he was half-sitting in an awkward position with his hand outstretched over the trembling form, Tom let out another gasp and sat up abruptly, hitting Harry in the nose with the top of his head and almost knocking him from the bed.

Harry jerked back with a yelp, covering his nose with his palm.

Tom let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up, then noticed that something was wrong.

“Harry?” he asked carefully. “Did I – ?”

“Nah! It’s my fault!” Harry dismissed him, speaking through his nose. “I shouldn’t – ”

“Let me see,” Tom gently pried Harry’s hand away from his face. “You’re bleeding,” he tried for the light tone, but failed, thick worry lacing his voice.

“That’s just a nosebleed,” Harry protested weakly, but Tom would have none of it.

“Allow me to be the judge of that,” Tom retrieved his wand from a nightstand and gingerly trailed Harry’s profile with its tip, his hand slightly quivering. “You’re still recovering, but I – ” he trailed off.

“You had a nightmare,” Harry deadpanned. “I was just – ”

“Be quiet,” Voldemort grumbled clearly uncomfortable. “Or I’ll make a mistake and get you a Snape’s hooked nose.”

Harry tried to snort.

“Merlin, boy, sit still!” growled Voldemort. “Broken nose is not a joke!”

“Don’t make me laugh then,” Harry droned on.

“Shut up.”

“Are you done yet?” Harry asked after a while.

Tom’s hand jerked. Harry hissed, feeling a pang of pain in his nose.

“Sorry. Don’t talk, you distract me.” Tom’s voice didn’t held any remorse.

Several minutes later Harry chirped again:

“How much longer?”

Tom swore under his breath, again loosing his concentration.

“What are you, three?”

“Five,” Harry giggled, but was cut off by another pang of pain.

“Fuck! Err – Sorry. Don’t breathe through you nose yet.”

“Okay!”

“And Do. Not. Talk!”

“Right.”

“Argh! Can’t you be still for a minute?!”

Harry nodded and immediately let out a soft cry of pain, ending in gasp: Tom took him by the throat to keep his head in place so that his wand won’t go up Harry’s nose and do any more damage. His grip was not tight enough to suffocate, but still quite forceful.

“Here, you’re all good,” after five long minutes the Dark Lord put away his wand at last.

Harry brought his hand to his throat. He was certain, later he would get bruises on his neck, where the Dark Lord’s fingers were just a moment ago.

“Was it necessary?” Harry rasped.

Tom had a decency to blush slightly.

“I am not going to entrust your health to my incompetent men. And Algernon must have left for St. Mungo’s several hours ago.”

“And now you demonstrated just how competent you are,” Harry grumbled, his voice still a bit wheezily.

“You distracted me,” Tom responded grumpily.

“A bad workman always blames his tools?” Harry teased.

Tom’s lips twitched in an attempt to conceal his smile.

“Trust you to speak to the Dark Lord in Muggle cliches,” he snickered. “How are you feeling? Aside from your nose, I mean.”

“Fifty-fifty.” Harry put his tongue out teasingly.

The Dark Lord shook his head in amusement.

“Would you kindly elaborate?”

“I’m still tired, and I hadn’t slept too well, but otherwise I am all right,” Harry responded.

“Nightmares?” Voldemort inquired in a strange tone.

Harry shrugged.

“You could call it that. I dreamed of my running through the woods – ”

The Dark Lord’s eyes glinted in surprise.

“Dark evening, pine forest, right?” he slowly clarified. “There should have been a rain before – The trees and ground were damp – ”

“How do you – ? Oh, wait! The connection!” Harry was shocked. “I didn’t know it worked both ways!”

Voldemort shrugged dismissively. Then inquired with genuine curiosity:

“Was it always like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were – ” Tom tried to find the words, “frightened?”

“You saw it through my eyes?” Harry asked quietly. When Tom nodded silently, he replied, “Then you know yourself. I was terrified. Sometimes I didn’t have enough strength left even to breathe but still had to run for my life. For our life.” He put his hand on his still flat stomach. “Other times I thought I’d surely die from hunger, thirst or pain. But this kept me going,” he lowered his eyes, looking at his hand, which now was covered by Tom’s slightly twitching palm. Raising his head he looked into red gleaming eyes. “You know, I was almost glad, when you finally came to get me. I thought that it would finally be over for both me and the baby. Babies.” Smitten, he shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have hoped that the fearful Dark Lord Voldemort could accept – ”

Soft warm lips touched Harry’s own, successfully cutting him off. The kiss was chaste, but red eyes, glistening with a flood of emotions, locking with Harry’s tear-filled gaze, promised to lay all the world at his feet.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems, I chose the wrong time to post new chapters, exactly when AO3 had some issues XD  
> Due to this I managed to double-post Chapter IV. Thanks to **Phoenix Black** I found this and fixed it.  
>  But as a result and as clumsly as I am, managed to delete that one double, where there had been some coments already left, instead of the other one >.<  
> I am afwully sorry, and, please, don't think it was intentional! I am just inattentive as that >.<  
> Thanks to all of your comments, I am really glad to see them each time (I even re-read some of them XD).
> 
> * * *

Half hour later Tom was still holding Harry in a one-handed embrace, the fingers of his free hand tracing lazy patterns on Harry’s neck, erasing the possible bruises from earlier, Tom’s soft full lips leaving wet trail along Harry’s jaw-line upwards, to his cheekbones and creased brows.

“Does something bother you?” Tom murmured. “You’re frowning.” He kissed away the light wrinkles, which appeared at Harry’s forehead.

“What’s got into you?” Harry asked, fidgeting in his arms. This lazy caresses surprised and made him slightly nervous, reminding him of his first encounter with a drunken sex-driven Dark Lord.

“You don’t like it,” Tom said in questioning and frustrated tone, ceasing his movements and going almost completely still, gripping Harry’s shoulders with enough force that it certainly would leave more bruises.

“It’s not that I don’t – ” Harry squirmed, trying to ease Tom’s grip on him. “B-but – ”

“That’s all right,” Tom sighed and released him. “My apologies. I should not have pressed on.” He moved away from Harry and stood up. “I just got carried away.” He lowered his gaze, stepping from the bed, two rose spots appearing on his high cheekbones along with two cute dimples below them, though all these disappeared almost instantly, making Harry wonder whether he imagined the scary Dark Lord going all girly-shy on him.

Before Harry could stop him, Tom went for the door.

“Wait! Where – ?” Harry held out his hand towards the retreating Dark Lord. “ – Are you going?” the end of Harry’s question was cut off by the door, which closed behind Voldemort.

* * *

After the Dark Lord left, Harry tried to sleep some more. Unfortunately, all traces of sleep seemed to have left with Tom, so Harry only managed to slumber for about half hour, restlessly turning from one side to the other in an attempt to make himself comfortable. At last he sat up with a sigh of defeat and grabbed a book left by Voldemort on the night stand. Alas, it turned out that the book was written in some illegible language, so Harry put it aside with another sigh of disappointment. Then he tried to simply stare out of the window, but there was nothing there that could hold his interest.

At that moment there was a tentative knock at the door. Surprised, Harry called out an invitation to enter. Who could that be? It was unlikely that Voldemort would be knocking on the door to his own bedroom. Or to any room, as he probably didn’t know how to knock at all, Harry thought with a quiet snicker.

The door opened to reveal a man holding a tray laded with food, with a kettle floating beside his elbow.

An unnamed Death Eater put the tray and kettle on a night stand near Harry and left without a word.

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Harry set to eat.

After he finished his meal another unnamed Death Eater came in to retrieve the empty plates and left him several vials of potions with a small note attached to one of them. It was an instruction on the order he should take his medicine in, written in a familiar scrawl of the Potions Master.

It seemed Voldemort was not going to grace Harry with his presence. Despite everything the Healer said about them needing to be in a very close proximity to each other. Despite everything the Dark Lord himself said earlier: that he was ready to put aside the differences, that he was going to provide both for the babies and the mother, too. Despite just recent talk they had and those emotions Harry saw in his eyes, promising him all the world.

Frustrated, Harry tried to sleep again.

Another restless hour later he heard the knock on the door once more.

“Enter!” he urged.

The familiar blond head carefully peaked in.

“Potter, are you decent?”

“You may as well come in, Malfoy,” Harry nodded in encouragement. “I don’t have anything to do either way.”

Malfoy entered very carefully, looking around as if waiting for the Dark Lord to jump at him out of the corner.

“Don’t worry, there’s no one here except for me,” Harry snorted. “You don’t think I’d be bored if the Dark Lord was here?”

Malfoy’s cheeks turned pink at the implication.

“So it is true then?” he asked gingerly. “You and the Dark Lord – ”

Harry shrugged.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘me and him’. You fatherhood spell was correct, as was Snape’s diagnostic ones,” Harry responded. “Though, if you mean anything aside from us being a parents of an accidentally conceived baby, I can’t say there is something else. He’d be here, if it was true,” Harry grumbled in frustration.

Lucius shook his head in surprise.

“So you are indeed pregnant. A rare occurrence, even for a Wizarding world, I must say. I have heard about maybe two or three cases during my whole life, and dare I say I have seen my fare share of years.”

“Then you mast have gone to school at the same time with my parents!” Harry exclaimed, curious. He was meaning to ask this for a while now, especially when he heard that strange remark about their supposed relationship with Snape from Voldemort’s lips.

Lucius shook his head.

“Not quite. I was almost out of Hogwarts when Severus went for his first year, and he was rather close, as far as I know, to your mother,” Malfoy recalled with a careful expression on his pointed face.

“Snape was – Snape was a friend of my mother?!” Harry sputtered. “Bloody hell!”

Malfoy smirked, seemingly pleased with Harry’s reaction.

“They were friends even before Hogwarts, I heard.”

“No way!” Harry exclaimed in shock. “That’s the reason! I never understood why – ” he trailed off, suddenly scrunching his face in distress.

“Potter! Are you going to cry on me again?!” Malfoy inquired vehemently.

Harry rubbed at his eyes and looked up at Malfoy.

“Did you escaped to the other country while your wife was pregnant with Draco?” Harry raised an inquiring brow. “That’s called hormones.” He smirked.

It seemed, Lucius wanted to roll his eyes, if not for his upbringing.

“I was indeed abroad for the most part of Narcissa’s pregnancy,” he confessed. “But I know quite well what you are referring to. Narci was not the only pregnant woman I encountered,” he elaborated. “What makes you want to cry, though, I have no idea.”

Harry briefly squirmed his eyes shut, trying to stall his tears, and sighed.

“I’d rather we not talk about my parents. Better tell me why did you send me here that time?”

“What do you mean?”

“The first time I was here, or, well, in the dungeon. Wormtail came to take me up here for a bath and a meal. He’d said it was your idea. And Voldemort said it was your gift, the bottle of wine – ” trailing off, Harry squinted his eyes in suspicion.

Malfoy attained an innocent look.

“It is true, I suggested to Pettigrew to take you for a bath. The rest was a mere coincidence, I assure you.”

“Why here then? Or does this mansion holds only one bathroom?” Harry smirked in disbelief.

“As laughable as it may sound, you are almost correct. There is only one room with adjacent bathroom inside. There are my own chambers, as well as Severus’ rooms, too, of course, but at that time this was the only available option. As far as I remember, that day Sev was here, brewing some of his complicated concoctions requiring his constant attention, thus he could not leave his rooms or lend them to a prisoner in need of a bath. As for the other set of rooms, my Lord requires my presence during some Rituals, like it was that day, for instance, and sometimes these Rituals need a very thorough preparations of both the body and mind. So my rooms were occupied as well. This room, on the contrary, was free, as my Lord was spending hours prior to the Ritual in his private library, reading something pertaining to the magic it required.”

“You thought this rather thoroughly, no?” Harry voiced his lingering suspicions. “It was a month ago and yet you remember very well, who did what where.” His brow was raising even more now. “And what about that wine you gifted to your Lord, hmm?”

Lucius shifted uncomfortably.

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to imply. That wine was a souvenir I brought from abroad and as it was of a splendid vintage I decided to share the fine taste with my Lord.”

Harry’s smirk widened.

“Do you know those Rituals are quite inebriating in themselves? The additional alcohol is not necessary,” Harry drawled. “If you participated before, you should know this as well.”

Lucius nodded.

“Naturally. It was never my intention – ”

Harry laughed.

“Don’t give me that. I think you did this on purpose. Though, what is this purpose that’s what I’d like to know. And where you really got that wine.” Harry deadpanned.

Malfoy blanched, perspiration appearing above his brow. He shook his head.

“I don’t – ”

“What, do you think, the Dark Lord would do if he learns you tried to poison him?” Harry inquired suavely, sliding from the bed and stalking to Malfoy slowly.

Lucius became white as death and recoiled from him, gulping loudly.

“P-potter, you wouldn’t – ”

Harry’s smirk started to resemble a crocodile’s.

“My slippery friend,” he purred, remembering Voldemort’s nickname for Malfoy, “I won’t guarantee you anything, but I might try to put in a word for you. If only you would tell me everything. And do not lie to me, Malfoy. I may not be a mind-reading genius, but you’d dig your own grave with your lies, as they certainly would be brought to light by the Dark Lord. I do not wish to be a part of this, because he definitely would blame me, too, just for company’s sake.”

“What are you doing in Griffindor?” Lucius tried to stall the inevitable.

“Don’t change the subject! I might have done good in Slytherin, too, the Hat had said,” Harry admitted. “So who put you to it? You don’t strike me as a person to do something as foolish by yourself,” he mused. “Was it – ?”

“Dumbledore,” Lucius grumbled. “Though, I have you know, I fully intended to use it to my own advantage in the end.”

“Care to explain?”

“The wine was laced with some potion, but I don’t have the knowledge of what it was. The Headmaster said it will weaken the Dark Lord. I assume he hoped that you would use this opportunity – ”

Harry laughed loudly, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“So he knew I was here, did he?”

Malfoy shrugged in discomfort.

“I suppose. He suggested I try to get you both alone after my Lord consumed the wine.”

“And what were you planning to do after I supposedly kill him? Take his place?” Harry asked with curiosity. “And Dumbledore? Was he hoping you would dismiss the Dark order, ending the war?”

“I have no idea. I am not utterly certain what should have happened to the Dark Lord, either. Maybe Dumbledore just tried to give you a chance to break free – ”

Harry snorted.

“No way. When I did broke free he tried to make me to abort the – the babies.” Harry let out a nervous breath. “I think he knew from the very start that I was here. Who knows, maybe he even anticipated something akin to what really happened.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think of it. But back to the topic. What were you planning for later? You haven’t told yet.”

Lucius showed his teeth in a crocodile’s smirk of his own.

“You think I’d tell this to a hormonal pregnant teenager who, I might add, does not even have his wand?” He snickered.

Harry smiled as a lazy cat at that.

“Why are you so sure I don’t? And even if it is so, who said I don’t have any other means – ? You’re so certain, I am no threat just because I don’t poke you in your pointed face with a wooden stick?” Harry raised a brow in surprise. “Never thought I might know wandless spells or simply tell the Dark Lord – ? Oh, wait, I don’t even need to _tell_ him anything, he may simply see into my mind,” Harry’s eyes glinted devilishly, taking a slight red tint to them thanks to that same wandless magic he just reminded Lucius of.

Malfoy shuddered. But still stood his ground.

“I am not telling you any more, brat. If Voldemort truly wishes to draw the information from me he would rather Crucio me himself then rely on your non-existent manipulative skills anyway.”

Harry suddenly shrugged and returned to bed, as if tired.

“You can say what you like, Lucius. For now. I didn’t joke about the Hat wanting me in Slytherin, though. So you might want to remember that. This way you may be less surprised later,” he waved his hand in dismissal, suddenly reminding Malfoy of the regal manners his Lord usually showed. “You may leave. I think I would finally be able to sleep now.”

* * *

After Lucius left Harry really fell asleep rather peacefully. He was awoken by a sudden quiet knock on the door again.

“Come in!”

Yet another faceless Death Eater brought him a new portion of food and potions, this time without a note from Snape.

Before Harry could inquire about it, the Potion Master intruded upon his meal unceremoniously.

“Potter! I think I made it clear the first time! You are to drink these two potions with your meal and these three after – ”

“Professor! That’s not my fault they are too stupid to bring everything in the right order,” Harry exclaimed indignantly. “You could have come yourself at lunch, you know. Just to supervise them.” Harry grumbled. “Instead of sending a stupid note.”

Snape rolled his eyes at him.

“I don’t have so much free time, Potter,” he drawled. “Eat and drink your potions, I’ll make sure next time they won’t confuse anything.”

Harry sighed and quickly finished his supper, washing it down with some juice before he dawned his share fare of potions, squinting his eyes at the foul taste of some of them.

“Have you ever tried to add something for the potions to taste better?” Harry asked with curiosity.

Snape’s brow rose in surprise.

“What do I hear? Potter is interested in Potions?”

“I don’t know what else to talk to you about,” Harry deflated. “We can sit in silence, if you wish. As far as I understand you are here as a magical supporter for the babies, aren’t you? So _he_ didn’t completely forgot about me?” at the end of his short speech Harry was almost whispering.

“Potter, he may be angry – at you, or more likely at himself – but he certainly remembers that you’re bearing his child. Of course, he had sent me here!”

“Children. They are twins,” Harry corrected him, some of his good mood returning and his eyes glistening with mirth. “Imagine somebody like Wheasley twins, but with me and the Dark Lord as parents!” Harry grinned.

Snape shuddered.

“I fear for Hogwarts’ safety then,” involuntary smile threatening to appear on his lips, admitted vile Potions Master. “Your impishness with our Lord’s thrive for knowledge and love for Dark Arts – Hogwarts, no, the whole world has no chances,” he smirked.

“True. They’ll never know what hit them!” Harry laughed. “Want to see it?”

“Hmm?”

“The Scroll,” Harry’s pronunciation clearly implied that the word should be written with capital letter because of its importance. “The Healer gave it to us. It states the fatherhood details and babies vitals.”

Before Snape could refuse, Harry fished the Scroll from a drawer of one of the night stands and produced it to the strict professor with a shrug.

“I don’t know why, but I feel the need to show it to you,” with a hint of embarrassment admitted Harry. “Oh, and Lucius said you were – ” he gulped, his face, which was previously lit with excitement, falling. “He said you were friends with my mother,” Harry finished quietly, lowering his head and hiding his tearful eyes behind his fringe.

“It is true,” Snape sighed, a strange emotion in his voice. “That was, probably, the reason why all this time I – ” he shook his head in defeat. “I don’t think this discussion is fitting for today. You are probably tired and – ”

“What I am is bored out of my mind!” Harry exclaimed. “And I, too, don’t want to spoil the moment thinking of my parents, who were killed by a father of my children,” he let out a strained sob, trying not to cry in front of his old professor. “I just – ”

“Take this,” Snape held out a tiny vial with some strange rose-colored cloud-like substance. “It is not drinkable, you need to open it and sniff a bit of smell in. That’s a mild Calming Draught in vaporized state, the Calming Breath.”

“Thanks,” Harry let out a shaky breath, then proceeded to do as he was told. Slightly minty and cool smell with a hint of cinnamon and vanilla engulfed his senses, instantly calming his hysteria. “Thank you,” Harry repeated, returning the vial.

“Keep it. I suspect it would be handy more than once in the months to come,” Snape said with a wry smile.

Harry nodded and placed the vial onto the night-stand beside him.

With a slight hint of curiosity Snape looked into the Scroll, which laid forgotten on the edge of a bed. Shaking his head he raised his gaze at Harry.

“I have heard of male pregnancies couple of times, but this is even more rare. Twins. You should not strain yourself, just rest while you still can.”

“I know,” Harry sighed. “I just hope Voldemort would remember this too. He took some nonsense in his head and left. I haven’t seen him from this morning. Is he even in the mansion?”

“I don’t stalk my Lord, Potter.” Snape sneered. “He might have stepped out this morning for all I care, he doesn’t report to me. Or he maybe down in the dungeons torturing someone. There are numerous things he could do in and out of mansion.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender.

“I got it! Don’t you start on me! Or did Lucius complained?” Harry let out a snigger, imagining that picture, but quickly shook his head, trying to erase the visuals his mind produced as a continuation of their talk. He didn’t need this just an hour before his sleep!

“I haven’t seen him from yesterday,” Snape grumbled. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. You can ask him yourself,” Harry dismissed the topic lightly. Then took the Scroll out of Snape’s hand. “By the way, did you find anything unusual there?” He shook the Scroll in the air. “I mean medically – Hell! Scientifically, I guess.”

Snape hummed in thought.

“Give it here,” he took the parchment and re-read it again. Then shook his head, “No, nothing’s out of the ordinary here. Aside from there being two of them, of course. You can rest assured, twins are healthy, despite everything you endured.”

Harry nodded and climbed to bed.

“I wonder, do you need to stay with me the whole night? Or this hour was enough for them to take their portion of magic?” Harry mumbled sleepily.

“I will sit here for a while more, but you can sleep. One of the evening potions contains sedatives, I am surprised you didn’t fall asleep earlier.”

“Too much stress,” Harry muttered half-asleep. “Thanks for coming,” the next second he was snoring quietly.

* * *

Harry didn’t know how long Snape had stayed with him after he fell asleep, but when the morning came he was alone again. After a while a knock at the door announced the arrival of his breakfast.

This time there were two Death Eaters, one with a tray of food, and another with a tray of potion vials in hands and a stack of books floating near him. The books turned out to be from the Healer Algie, as he’d promised. In addition the stack contained several potion texts and textbooks on Runes, Arithmancy and Advanced Transfiguration.

It seemed Snape has took to heart his claim of being bored and took the liberty to provide Harry with some distraction. Or a good means to fall asleep quickly. Grinning, Harry set to eat and took his potions, proceeding to read afterwards.

After lunch, which was brought by another silent Death Eater with no name to him, Snape came again. They talked, mostly about the things Harry had read: Potions, medical texts about pregnancy in general and journals on male pregnancy, not speaking about Harry’s parents again, or about Voldemort.

Several days had passed in similar fashion: Harry slept, read, ate and took his potions, conversed with Snape, slowly warming up to him and making him in turn see a person and not a reflection of a bully from his childhood. They didn’t returned to the topic of Harry’s parents anymore, but Harry fished for small things Snape could tell him about his mother, when he sensed the good mood of the sour professor.

Lucius came as well, though his clear reluctance was obvious at first. They talked, too. Harry tried to drag the information about his supposed betrayal out of the blond, but Malfoy kept quiet about it. What he did talk, though, was the topics of male pregnancy, pureblood traditions and relations pertaining to it and his relationship with Snape, which Voldemort implied before. Or rather, Harry fished for juicy details, but Lucius was tight-lipped about them, elaborating very little. It turned out Snape and Malfoy got together when both were already in Voldemort’s troops, after Snape’s graduation. So he couldn’t tell Harry very much about his mother – they were, after all, on the opposite sides of the barricades. They talked a bit about Draco, too. Harry learned that it was Lucius plan for Draco to befriend him, so when he declined the outstretched hand of the blond offspring, Lucius was enraged. That could have led to Draco’s unhealthy animosity, Harry mused. If he saw Harry as a reason for his father’s anger, that would explain why he was so vile.

On the second day of his loneliness, Harry had got an unexpected visitor.

* * *

The knock at the door announced the arrival of his evening company. Harry expected this to be either Snape or Malfoy, though he’d seen the later just couple of hours before, but there wasn’t a specific schedule to their shifts.

When he urged the guest to enter, the door slowly and carefully opened, revealing a seemingly young wide-eyed man with a familiar face and name.

“May I?” The visitor asked tentatively. “I was told you require some company – ”

“Please, come in!” Harry was cheerful this morning because he felt better physically and his hard feelings for Volemort were put to the back of his mind, almost forgotten.

“Barty Crouch Jr! It is a surprise. I thought you were either given a Dementor’s Kiss or simply killed after the Tri-wizard Tournament.” Harry raised his brows. “How come?”

Barty smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Our Lord has many talents, Potter. By the way, care to explain, why are you in his private chambers, swarming in luxury instead of suffering chained to the wall of the dungeon?” Barty asked with curiosity.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Harry was surprised. He assumed Barty was sent here by Voldemort to replace his Leutenant and Potions Master as a magical supporter for Harry’s babies. So why didn’t Voldemort explain this? Or he preferred to simply issue unquestionable orders? Why he’s surprised with the foolishness and incompetency of his people then?

“What should I know? Beside you not being in your right place?” Barty snorted.

“I am where I should be. If voldemort deemed you not worthy of the information, then so be it,” Harry snickered. “You can, of course, try to puzzle it out yourself, I won’t interfere,” Harry looked at Barty with obvious challenge in his gaze. “I am too bored, you know. So feel free to solve this riddle,” at this Harry giggled.

Barty looked at him in amusement.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ah, that’s a private joke,” Harry smirked. “Don’t mind. Better tell me where have you been since the Tournament? It should be at least somewhat less boring than my books.” While he was speaking, Harry carefully rearranged the stack at the night stand so that the titles won’t be on display. It won’t do if Barty puzzled it all just from the book titles. Too easy. And Harry was itching for some action, or at least amusement.

* * *

Barty puzzled it out only on his second visit on a fourth day of Harry’s lone stay at Voldemort’s chambers.

And this time, like the previous one, they talked mostly about unimportant matters: Quidditch, Hogwarts, favorite types of ice-cream for both of them, their shared animosity towards Dumbledore with his lemon drops and twinkling eyes.

They talked about different branches of magic – Light, Dark and almost non-existent Gray, Harry insisting that he physically sensed the difference between spells and Barty protesting that normal wizards could not feel the magic while it was performed. Of course, if they were on the receiving end of these spells that was the other matter entirely.

“I didn’t notice this before, too, you know. But now for some reason I can feel – For instance, Lucius’ magic is like old wool blanket, it stings and suffocates me. Snape’s is constantly changing, one moment it stings, too, but in the next – it is similar to a lukewarm waterfall.”

“What about mine?” Barty inquired.

“Don’t know, haven’t felt yet. Let’s try it!” Harry winked at Barty, who nervously licked his lips.

“Are you sure – ? My Lord – ”

“Is not here. I am. And I tell you can safely try something non-offending on me, like a cleaning spell, for example,” Harry smiled encouragingly.

Barty raised his wand uncertain. Harry nodded.

“Any moment now.”

“R-right.” Barty uttered a cleaning spell, managing not to stutter too much in the process.

Harry felt a scalding hot air dawning on him, making him gasp in surprise. The sensation was not too unpleasant, but enough to make him sway on his feet lightly.

“Potter, what – ?”

“I – I am alright,” Harry breathed out, stumbling to the bed and carefully sitting on the edge. “Just don’t do any more spells for a while, please.”

“You’re – ”

“That was my own fault,” Harry gave out a strained smile. “I’ll sit for a bit, I think,” but after a couple of seconds he darted to the bathroom, not able to hold his latest meal down after feeling the other’s magic.

When he returned, rubbing his mouth on his sleeve, Barty came up to him with a worry.

“What did I do?”

Harry shook his head and laid down on the bed.

“It was truly my fault. No more experimenting, I guess.” He sighed. “Your magic is hot like a desert air.” He smirked. “You’ve seen the aftereffects, so believe me, it is true, I can feel the magic. And you owe me three Sickles,” he smirked.

Barty produced the coins from his pouch, shaking his head in amusement.

“How can you be cheerful after you just – ?”

“I am getting used to it already,” Harry snickered. “Throwing up at random times, I mean.”

“So that’s true then?”

“What’s true?”

“You are pre – pregnant?” Barty asked tentatively.

“Or I could be avert to your magic,” Harry snorted. “Allergic, you know.” He giggled. “So I am getting used to throwing up from the feeling of it, when you visit.”

Barty nervously jerked his head.

“How can you joke about it – ?”

“What, you don’t see the humor in that? A Savior pregnant with a Dark Lord’s spawn! That’s so funny!” Despite his words Harry’s mood turned sarcastic. “Either I will joke about it or go bonkers. I don’t think you lot – you, Snape or Lucius – would like me going completely nutters here, or would you?” He scrunched his face and drawn the vial with the Calming Breath from his pocket in a familiar gesture. “It doesn’t help matters, that the fucking father of my spawn is wandering somewhere else, when he should be here with his bloody magic,” Harry took a shuddering breath of potion, but his hysteria was too forceful this time, so he made several gulps of air laced with potion’ smell.

“Better now? I apologize for setting you off.” Barty mumbled, making a slight bow. This reminded Harry of something.

“Say, do you, per any chance, know French?” he inquired.

“Unfortunately, no. But I can bring someone who knows, if necessary,” Barty suggested. “Why?”

“There is this word I’d like to look up. Well, you could simply find me a vocabulary. No need to bring anyone in here just for this.” Harry responded. “Or I can just ask Lucius,” his smirk returned with full force.

“Do you have some dirt on Malfoy or what?” Barty asked in curiosity.

“You have no idea!” Harry snorted with secretive smile, shaking his head.

* * *

The next time Lucius came to visit him, Harry remembered about the French word he was curious about.

“Hey, Lucius, do you know French?”

“Naturally,” Malfoy inclined his head.

“What is this word, then? It kind of rhymes with Voldemort, sounding something like “ _putty-morhu_ ”. What could it be?”

Lucius shrugged.

“With your pronunciation it could be anything,” he snorted. “If you say it rhymes with our Lord, then could it be something like ‘ _Petite Mort_ ’?”

“Yeah, I think so! What it means?”

“Small Death,” Lucius deadpanned.

Harry blinked.

“Then I don’t get why they were both laughing,” he trailed off.

“Who?”

“Voldemort and Algie. He called me that. And they giggled like school-girls at what it implied,” Harry mused in bewilderment.

Lucius shook his head, trying to dismiss the images of his Lord in the role of a school girl, giggling at some stupid word.

“What did you talk about? Maybe it was something else?”

“Nah! Voldemort said it fits. So it must be this French word.”

“Can you elaborate? I can’t guess when there is no context!” Lucius grumbled annoyed.

“Algie officially congratulated me and called our titles, I guess. Something like ‘ my Lords Voldemort, Petite-Mort’. And Voldemort replied that it fits.” Harry shrugged.

Lucius let out a snigger.

Harry raised a brow.

Lucius wriggled his eyebrows.

Harry pointed an accusing finger at him. “Algie did the same!”

“I am not surprised.”

“And – ?” Harry urged.

“Have you ever heard of a saying ‘An orgasm is a small death’?” Lucius asked him. “And that’s from France, too, by the way,” he smirked.

Harry spluttered.

“Old perverts, all of you!”

“And you’re a hormonal teenager, are you not? So what of it?” Lucius smirked. “They say men’s mind is full of thoughts of sex, the rest topics take maybe tenth of the brain.”

Harry waved a hand in an air.

“I don’t want to know!” he groaned. “Don’t give me these images!”

Lucius smiled nastily.

“You shouldn’t have conjured them.”

* * *

That evening Snape again make his customary visit to Harry.

“Did you take your potions for the night?” he inquired.

Harry nodded tiredly.

“I was thinking you should really invent something to make them taste better,” he grumbled. “It is only harder each time to hold them down and not throw up, you know.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Potions Master pursed his lips. “How are you feeling? Healer Algie should come tomorrow or the day after, I think.”

“I’m feeling like an old mop twirled too many times,” Harry admitted, slumping on a bed. “And I have a splitting headache from the day before yesterday, I think.”

“Why didn’t you feel the need to tell this before?” Snape sneered. “I could have brought something – ”

“I don’t think you know how to brew anything for the Dark Lord’s wrath? Because that’s what causes it,” Harry spat. “Until he stops being angry I suspect there is nothing anyone can do,” he grumbled. “And I don’t even know what I did!”

“Maybe, it’s not your fault,” supplied Snape. “His people are making stupid mistakes all the time, of course he would be angry. I’ve seen him just yesterday evening at a meeting. Fifteen rounds of Crucio. So you can imagine – ”

“I don’t need to _imagine_ ,” Harry sneered. “I saw it all. Vomited all over the place, too. Scared poor Barty shitless, I am afraid.” He rubbed his face. “He could have at least listen to them before torturing.”

“They don’t do well otherwise anymore. They are too used to this,” Snape sighed. “I could try to talk to him – ”

Harry shook his head.

“Please, don’t. He’d only curse you, too. I’d ask Lucius,” he showed his teeth in unhealthy smile. “But I fear he won’t listen to him either and kill the man on the spot. I am surprised, actually – ” He trailed off abruptly with a heavy sigh and slumped on the bed more, almost laying on it. “Another meeting?” Harry groaned weakly, before collapsing lifelessly on the bed.

“Potter!” he didn’t hear Snape’s worried exclamation.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I advise you to remember the rating of this fanfic before reading. Some expliciteness and non-con are appearing in this chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _Please, mind this brief note:_** I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to keep up with this high pace of writing as it was just recently, at least for two-three upcoming weeks: I’ve a work to translate and my mother comes from another town to visit (more like a lengthy holiday, before my parents’ trip in mid August). So I am posting this chap now, and you can  _probably_ expect one more chapter before my unexpected break (either on Saturday, or early next week). Depends whether I’d feel the need to change or add to it (I’m currently somewhere in the middle of Ch. VIII in terms of writing, _18-07-2017_ ).  
> On a side, I’ve gone through the previously posted chapters, correcting small things like grammar, or punctuation, etc. Just a bit of cosmetic renovation of sorts, nothing different plot-wise or critical. And as I’d complained already on twitter, “ _What d'ya know of torture? Try to edit an NC scene in your fanfic and then add coding to it, re-reading not once, but numerous times! ( >_<) _”  
> Thank you, everyone, million times for your favs, follows and cool comments. I’d like to answer each & everyone of you personally, but then there will be another page of my thanks. Much love & gratitude to you all!
> 
> * * *

_He was finishing the tea when someone barged through the door. The intruder didn’t notice him at first, stumbling to the bed and shedding his clothes on his way. Either this man was wounded or drunk, he thought. A stranger collapsed on the bed with a tired moan._

_Quietly and slowly putting his cup on the table, he glanced at the front door, then at the bathroom door, trying to decide which route was safer. He had about an hour more, before he would be taken to the dungeons. The corridors are supposedly full of Death Eaters. He was carefully retreating towards the bathroom, as its door was slightly open, and he hoped to slip in there unnoticed. The front door closed with loud click when the stranger came in, so he was afraid that it was locked._

_Unfortunately, just as he made another careful step away from the bed, the stranger raised his head up._

_“Who’s there?” he slurred incoherently._

_Definitely drunk. He thought he could even smell the wine odor coming from the visitor._

_He made yet another step, not daring to turn his back to the stranger on the bed._

_The man sat up with some difficulty and turned to him, narrowing his eyes as if he could not see clearly. It was not surprising, as the only light in the room came from the window, but the sun had set already and most of the room was covered in shadows._

_The man on the bed snorted derisively, then smirked like a cat seeing a cup full of cream and in one swift and fluid motion, surprising for his drunken state, came on him._

_They wrestled for a while, he tried to break free and dash to the bathroom, the drunkard, on the other hand, tried to drag him to bed. The fight was silent – he was afraid to attract attention of the people who can be outside, and the drunk man put all his efforts into seizing him, so he only grunted now and then, when the other’s elbow connected with his abdomen or his foot came to the drunkard’s knee in a futile attempt to dislodge it._

_Their fight ended rather quick with him being too weak to resist for long and finally they both fell onto the bed. The man quickly pinned him to the mattress with his body and with a low growl thrust his hips forward in an obvious gesture._

_Terrified, he tried to throw a man off, but the remains of his energy were not enough – despite being totally drunk the man appeared to have enough power to easily hold him and simultaneously strip him of his robe, all the while trying to either bite or kiss his lips, jaw and neck._

_All his resistance, however, ended when the man, tired of his violent fighting turned him on his stomach and once again pressed him into the bed with his body._

_When he felt fingers touching his anus he writhed and cried out, but his cry was muffled by the pillow – the drunkard managed to push his head down with his other hand before grabbing his wrists again so that he would cease his attempts to hit the other man blindly._

_Nevertheless he was thankful for this small mercy: the stranger scissored his fingers inside of him, stretching his tight hole a bit, so, when the penetration itself finally happened, he felt smaller amount of pain from the intrusion. It was still humiliating and uncomfortable – the member of the man was thick and quite big, while his halfhearted attempt at stretching was quick and impatient._

_His moans of displeasure, too, were silenced by the pillow. The only sounds filling the room were grunts and growls of the man above him, who was violently pushing himself into his arse and pulling back only to thrust into him again next minute._

_At some point he felt a jolt of unwanted pleasure pierce him, when the man at his back accidentally brushed his cock on his prostate. he gasped and involuntarily jerked backwards, before biting his lip in shame. The rapist growled in satisfaction and forced him to stand on his knees, released his wrists and brought his hand to his member, which was already leaking the pre-cum._

_He cried in protest, when stranger’s hand wrapped around his length and squeezed him hard. The stranger then proceeded to stroke him in sync with his own thrusts. The rapist hit his prostate the second time, forcing him to cry out again. Although he already lost the battle with himself and didn’t know anymore if his own cries and moans were caused by discomfort or pleasure._

_The stranger quickened the pace of his thrusts and stroking at the same time when he felt the humiliating pleasure building up in his lower abdomen._

_With a strangled cry Harry came hard in the stranger’s hand, at the same time feeling the sticky warmth feeling him and hearing a stiffened sibilant “Yesssss” behind him._

_The stranger collapsed onto his back, successfully pinning Harry to the bed with his heavy body._

_Harry tried to throw him off, but he was too weak and his limbs felt like jelly. Sniffing and sobbing quietly he stayed like that for a while and managed to fall asleep or rather unconscious only when the stranger stirred in his slumber and moved to the other side of the bed._

* * *

He jerked up, gasping and breathing heavily, his face still wet with tears, his body trembling.

Rubbing his face with his hands forcefully, Tom tried to calm down and comprehend what he’d seen just now. Almost till the last moment he was pretty certain, that was just a nightmare, though where his sub-conscious retrieved those images he had no understanding.

Still shaken, he stood up and, stumbling on his way, went to the door out of his office, where he’d spent the last five nights. He needed something to calm his frantically racing heartbeat and embarrassing tremble of his limbs.

At the last moment he remembered that he could simply summon Snape, his own Potion Master, who should still be in the mansion after his evening visit to Harry.

Harry – 

Sighing, he retrieved his wand from a sleeve and performed a spell allowing him to call Snape through the connection to his Dark Mark.

  


He was nodding off, sitting on the same narrow couch he’d slept, when he heard the knock at the door.

“My Lord, did you call me?” Snape entered his office in confident strides.

“I need a Dreamless Sleep, Snape,” Voldemort barked out.

“I have a fresh batch cooling up in my rooms, my Lord. I can bring them for you. Or you can use this one, I finished it only yesterday.” Snape held out the vial he produced from one of his pockets.

“That will do,” Voldemort grumbled, grabbing the vial and uncorking it. Before he dawned it, though, he decided to ask, just in case. “How’s Harry?”

Snape’s gaze turned sour.

“So now you remembered about him?” he drawled sarcastically. “He fainted just couple of hours ago from an exhaustion and a magical drain.”

Blanching, Tom startled, successfully spilling all the potion to the floor.

“Fainted?” he echoed.

“Yes. And according to his words, for the past three days, at least, he quite clearly felt your ‘wrath’, as he called it, in the form of a headache, and saw into your mind during meetings. You can imagine how his pregnant body took it, I think.”

Tom took a shuddering breath and squeezed his eyes shut, then suddenly turned on his heels and rushed to his own bathroom, his face paling drastically.

“Severus, do you have anything for nausea?” Voldemort emerged from a bathroom a quarter of an hour later, still pale and trembling uncontrollably. “I suppose, Harry has woken up already,” he grumbled in response to Snape’s inquiring gaze and took another deep breath, the color of his face again turning to a green of a spring grass. “Snape,” after a forceful gulp he grumbled threateningly.

“I’d suggest you go to him already, my Lord. Here, you can take this for your nausea,” Snape held out yet another vial. “Also, I am afraid, the babies might have started to feed off both of your magical cores directly due to the distance between you. It is dangerous, both for them and for you.”

Voldemort quickly upended the offered potion and shook his head.

“I can’t,” he admitted. “Something makes me – ” he cut himself off. “Crave, I think, this called. Yes, crave his body,” he spat through gritted teeth. “I can’t think clearly in his presence. That’s unacceptable. And he is still recovering, so it’s a threat to him and to the babies.” Voldemort let out a nervous laugh. “Look at me, Severus! I am afraid of a teenager! No! I am afraid of my own body!” He shook his head. “Can you believe it? Someone must have cursed me recently!” He huffed indignantly.

“My Lord, that’s absolutely impossible!” Snape contradicted him. “You’re too cautious. And even if somebody would dare – There are something like five feet of space around your persona laced with defensive spells, one can practically see the air cracking and bursting with sparks. You’re too skillful and powerful for someone to have cursed you.”

Voldemort sighed: “You are probably right.” He waived his hand dismissively. “Go to Harry, please, Severus. I’ll manage here by myself.”

“It could simply be that you haven’t been laid in a long time,” Snape mumbled under his breath, cautious to not let the Dark Lord hear this scathing comment.

“Just go, Severus,” long thin finger pointed to the door, which had opened on itself from Voldemort’s wandless magic burst.

Snape sighed and went out.

* * *

After he had thrown Snape out, Tom turned to the couch contemplating a couple hours more of sleep. He had plans for an informal lunch meeting with werewolf pack-leaders for the next day, so he needed to be fully rested and in as good mood as he could be these days.

Instead he turned around and began pacing, his thoughts returning to the report he’d just got from Snape on Harry’s condition.

He was seriously confused by his own reaction to everything concerning this boy. He was constantly worried for him. No, that should not be the case. Not for him. Only for the babies he was bearing. That should be it. He was overly mindful of Harry’s body, too. But of course he should be! This was a mother of his children! If anything happened to – to a mother, it would be a true disaster! He didn’t want to imagine – 

He shuddered at the uncalled memory: a small delicate girl with a huge belly, lying on a bed, sheets red and crisp with blood, the girl’s bright-green wide-opened eyes lifeless and unseeing.

Rubbing his dry eyes in frustration, he tried really hard to forget that hell of a memory, once again shedding it to the far corners of his mind, where it had been hidden until just recently, but those green lifeless eyes continued to haunt him, the face slowly morphing into more familiar features, a bolting scar making the imagined person even more recognizable.

Letting out a dry sob, Tom stumbled to his desk, leaning on it heavily. He yanked one of the drawers open, his movements nervous, and grabbed a flask laying there and a pack of cigarettes he left long ago under it. Opening the flask with a trembling hands he gulped its contents in one go, ignoring the burning sensation of cognac going down his throat. Throwing the flask aside, he took out a cigarette with jerky gestures and lit it up with his finger, using a wandless spell. Taking a long and deep drag of it, he coughed reflexively, before remembering the almost forgotten skill of smoking and doing it properly.

After a while he got rid of the half-finished cigarette and went to the door with a purposeful strides.

* * *

Tom held his steady pace for another three minutes, before his already weakened Occlumency shields crumbled for good. He stumbled, his face again taking a green color at the edges, making him grab the nearest wall in an attempt to stay on his buckling legs. Taking an uneven breath through clenched teeth, he sped up his steps towards his own bedroom, feeling his magic quivering and splashing out of his core and into the nowhere, as its aim was not in the vicinity.

* * *

After he regained consciousness sometime after midnight, Harry stumbled to the bathroom on unsteady feet and collapsed there, almost hugging the toilet.

He’d spent several hours there, either throwing up or simply sitting, unable to find any strength in his body to return to bed. Though there was no purpose in going out of the bathroom only to return there in a rush in mere minutes. After a while his nausea finally stopped for enough time for him to come back to bed and collapse in it in something between a faint and heavy slumber.

That, too, had not lasted long. He bolted up on the bed after reliving his encounter with Voldemort that fateful night in the form a nasty and very clinical nightmare and dashed to the toilet once more.

After this Harry spent the remaining hours of night in there. At one point he thought he’d seen Snape briefly coming into the room, promising to bring a potion for his nausea and leaving again.

Harry felt weak and miserable, sensed his magic going out of him in angry wild splashes of energy, dissolving into nothingness. His stomach hurt and Harry hoped that was only the result of constant vomiting and not a sign of something bad happening to the babies. His vision swarmed, sometimes leaving him in a nightmarish blackness, or, on the contrary, making everything around him painfully bright.

So he was not sure anymore of his surroundings, and uncertain that a tall dark figure of a man, barging just moments ago into the bedroom and looming in the door frame to the bathroom, was not a part of his imagination.

“Harry,” came a soft voice.

Shuddering, he raised his head up towards the sound, the figure at the entrance blurring before his tear-filled eyes.

“Tom?” he called out unsure.

“Yeah.”

Tom made a step forward and almost fell to his knees beside him, one hand outstretched to touch Harry’s shivering form.

Harry involuntarily swayed towards him, collapsing on Tom’s chest. Sniffing pitifully, he buried his flushed face in the crook of Tom’s neck and clutched his shoulders painfully.

“Where have you gone?” Harry asked in a small voice. “You smell – funny – like cigarettes?” he observed surprised.

“Sorry. Old habit. Should I take you to bed, or do you need – ?” Tom made an awkward gesture towards the toilet.

“Bed,” Harry mumbled into his neck.

“Right,” Tom stood up, managing to lift Harry from the floor in the process, and picked him up in his arms in a familiar way, bridal-style. Stumbling and swaying slightly, he made it to the bed in unsteady slow steps, dropping them both on top of the ruffled sheets, which have made a wild knot with a blanket.

“Wait a minute,” Tom slurred hoarsely and returned to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Before Harry could call out for him, he heard all too familiar sounds coming from behind the closed door – Tom was violently throwing up, making small sounds of distress, ending in moans and sobs, the noise easily reaching through the not very tightly closed door.

After several minutes Tom emerged from the bathroom with one wet towel in his hands and another one – around his head, his face still slightly greenish.

He sat beside Harry on the bed and began to gently wipe his face and forehead with the towel. 

“Is it okay, if I do this?” he asked carefully.

“Thanks,” Harry replied weakly. “What happened to you?”

“Bad night,” Tom grumbled. “Though I presume, not as bad as yours,” the corners of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “Snape told me, you fainted earlier. Are you alright?”

Harry shrugged.

“Don’t know.” He sighed. “My stomach hurts and I still feel a bit nauseous,” he let out another shuddering breath. “Where have you been all this time?” with an accusation in his voice demanded Harry.

“I – ” Tom trailed off. “I don’t have a valid excuse. And no right to say sorry,” he averted his eyes. “I’ll try not to – to leave – next time,” he added weakly. “That was just too much for me, I guess. And I couldn’t grasp the severity of it. Of separation.” He heaved a sigh. “Nevertheless, I apologize.” He locked his blood-shot dull eyes with Harry’s. “You don’t have to – to accept it, but – ”

Instead of answering, Harry raised his hand and reached to Tom’s cheek, carefully touching it with his trembling fingers. Tom leaned into this touch, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

“I am sorry,” he whispered again.

“Sleep here?” Harry suggested. “That’s your room, you know,” he added with a smirk. “It’s rather uncomfortable to stay in a place, when the owner is absent. You never know where to find something you need and, well – ” He shrugged. “Just stay?” Harry looked at Tom with pleading eyes.

Tom nodded and stood up.

“I’ll just get this watered again,” he clarified, before going to the bathroom once more, but this time not closing the door. Harry heard a splash of water and a long suffering sigh of Tom, before he returned with two towels in his hands, but without a one around his head. Placing one wet cloth on Harry’s slightly hot forehead, he got down onto the bed, too, putting the other towel on his own head.

“May I?” Tom asked tentatively, slowly stretching his hand out to put it under Harry’s neck.

Harry hummed in agreement, snuggling into his body, ignoring the towel, which slid onto Tom’s shoulder, hugged him and closed his eyes.

“Don’t you dare run!” he mumbled, slipping into peaceful sleep. He didn’t remember that it was the exact phrase Voldemort had said after their first night together.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes, trying to understand why he was feeling so strange. For some reason his warm blanket was breathing and snoring softly. Blinking Harry raised his head and looked to his left: dark messy mop of hair obscured most of his view, but he managed to make out a slightly scrunched face of the sleeping Dark Lord.

Quietly sighing, Harry tried to carefully untangle their limbs, but it seemed, Tom kept holding him through out the night, never letting go, even in his sleep, and as Harry was shifting and turning all the time, they managed to make a knot out of their hands and feet, so tight, it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began.

Snorting, Harry at last slipped from the Dark Lord’s grasp, intending to go to the bathroom.

“Where’re ya goin’?” came a sleepy incoherent mumble.

“Bathroom. Did I wake you? Sorry,” Harry whispered.

“Don’t be.” Tom turned to lay on his back, letting out a long sigh, rubbed his face and stretched, making a huge yawn. “How’re you feeling?” he asked, his voice still scratchy.

“Okay, I guess. Still tired,” Harry added in an afterthought.

“No pain or anything? Drained?” Tom inquired.

Harry shook his head.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, dashing to the bathroom and closing it behind him with a quiet click.

After several minutes Tom stood up, too.

“Harry, are you alright there? May I come in?” he called. When no answer came, he rapped his knuckles on the door for good measure, before slowly opening it and looking inside.

Harry was sitting on the floor in front of the toilet again, breathing heavily, the sight reminding Tom of the previous night.

“What’s wrong?” Tom carefully slid into the bathroom and stepped to the spot behind Harry. The boy declined back, leaning on his legs. Tom gingerly brought his hands to Harry’s shoulders, slowly putting them down after a second of contemplation. Harry sniffled, before bending back down above the toilet.

Not knowing, what to do, Tom just carefully rubbed his back in soothing motions with a soft repeated “Hush”, while Harry dry-heaved.

Finally Harry leaned back, letting go of the toilet and looked up.

“Help me up?” he asked in a miserable voice.

Tom brought him on his feet and led to the sink.

“Are you up to showering? Or a bath?” Tom suggested, while Harry washed his face.

“Shower. If you help me, that is.”

Tom raised a brow at that.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Harry grumbled. “And I doubt you have the energy yourself,” he snorted.

Tom let out a theatrical sigh.

“I’m sold,” he snickered. “Let’s get you clean then.”

Harry slowly began undressing, his movements unsteady.

“Here,” Tom gently pushed his hands aside and made a quick work on the buttons of Harry’s shirt and pants, successfully unclothing him in a mere minute, after which he shed his own robes with the same practiced ease. He led Harry into the shower cubicle and stepped inside behind him, turning the water on his way. Grabbing a sponge and lacing it with some soap, Tom began rubbing Harry’s shoulders and back tenderly, slowly descending towards his legs. Harry swayed a bit, but was hold up by Tom’s attentive hand. “You better lean on the wall,” Tom suggested. “The floor might be slippery, you don’t want to test it and bang your head on the stall.”

Harry let out a quiet contended sigh, obediently turning and moving under Tom’s tender touches. The Dark Lord put aside the sponge and got to washing Harry’s tangled hair, gently rubbing his scalp and carefully separating his wet dark locks with his skillful slender fingers. Finally he started to wash the soap away, turning Harry around with a soft touches to his back and sides. “Close your eyes, I’ll rinse the soap off your hair,” he commanded softly. Harry tiredly complied, slumping slightly and leaning into him. “Are you unwell again?” not even attempting to mask his worry, inquired Tom.

“A bit,” Harry admitted. “Dizzy.”

Tom sighed.

“I want to try something, but give me five minutes to wash, too, please,” he murmured into the top of Harry’s inclined head. “You can sit over there,” Tom pointed to the closed lid of the toilet. “I’m covered in soap, so I can’t help you to the room right now.”

“Okay,” Harry slurred, carefully exiting the shower with Tom’s help and gingerly sitting on top of the toilet.

Tom quickly washed away the bubbles from his own body, his movements rather less thorough this time, but more jerky from worry. Totally forgoing his damp hair, only spending enough time to wash more bubbles out of them, Tom got out of shower, put a towel around his hips and got another, bigger one for Harry, who was sitting as he’d got out from under the water: naked and dripping wet, his body shivering slightly from cool air of the bathroom.

“You could have reached to the towel stack from your place,” mildly admonished him Tom. “Let me,” he wrapped Harry in a huge fluffy towel, hiding even his head with it, lifted this quietly sniffling bundle into his arms and carried it out into the bedroom, putting Harry down only when he reached the bed.

Tom unwrapped the towel, carefully dragging it down Harry’s form, slowly revealing slightly shivering boy with a messy nest of dark hair. Leaving the damp cloth hanging on Harry’s shoulders like a bath-robe, Tom gently pushed him down onto the bed.

“Sit, please. I want to try something, but I need your permission, Harry.”

“What is it?”

“Last night – I kind of felt what you felt then, even before I came to the room. I think, if I lower the Occlumency barriers between us, I’d be able to – draw off, I suppose, your dizziness. Will you allow me to try?”

Harry’s eyes widened more and more with each of Tom’s words. When the explanation ended, he just nodded jerkily with uncertainty.

Tom took a deep fortifying breath and, slightly bending down for better leverage, looked into Harry’s eyes briefly.

Harry felt gentle ghostly hands, touching his mind, peeling off his weak shields carefully one by one, then something warm engulfing him, like a soft cotton, before his dizziness abruptly vanished.

Tom gasped loudly, swaying in his sitting position, his face turning an unhealthy green.

Stifling a moan, Tom rose onto the unsteady feet and without a word went to the bathroom. The door locked, the familiar sobs and gasps coming from behind it almost instantly together with sounds of Tom throwing up.

The Dark Lord returned after several minutes, his face still gray from sickness and his legs wobbling. He slowly reached the bed and collapsed on it with a loud sigh.

“I have even more respect for pregnant women now,” he grumbled. “If they go through this every time – ” he trailed off. “And I want to apologize to you once more, Harry,” he added. “If I knew – ”

“You probably wouldn’t believe me still,” Harry chided him. “I clearly remember how someone was almost ready for a Muggle DNA test just because of his skepticism,” Harry let out a sarcastic snigger.

The Dark Lord rubbed his face in a tired gesture.

“Did you feel like this all this week?” he asked quietly.

“Not all the time, but yeah. Especially, the last two days, after that meeting. Were there fifteen Crucio, Snape said?”

“Oh.” Tom had the decency to look embarrassed. “They are stupid! What can I do?!”

“Talk?” Harry suggested. “If you simply talk through their mistakes, they at least won’t repeat them. And maybe this way they will learn what exactly you don’t like, so that next time they won’t anger you.” Harry gave him a lopsided grin. “And don’t think of them as fools. Not all of them are. Clearly, you have a high regard for Lucius, Snape and Barty. No?”

“So you like them?”

“Kind off. Barty is fun. Snape – well, he is still Snape, but I somewhat got used to it. And he stopped calling me Potter, that’s good.”

“Why’s that?” Tom was still lying on his back, his face slightly pale, and was seemingly not ready to brave the vertical position, so his question came a bit husky.

“Maybe in a week or two, no, give him three, and he will finally understand that I am not my father. Or mother, for that matter. Though that would be a bit sad, too. Now he sometimes forgets and talks to me like he did to her. Or tells me some small stories about her.” Harry’s smile turned sad at the last sentence.

“And Lucius?”

Harry’s smile turned crocodile, devilish glint appearing in his eyes.

“He is okay. As snobbish as Malfoys could be, I think, but we – get along, I suppose,” Harry admitted, snickering.

“Why I have a feeling you are not telling me something important?” Tom even managed to raise his upper body, leaning on his elbows, to look at Harry.

Harry shrugged, attaining an innocent look.

“Don’t know. Are you still dizzy?” Harry chirped.

Instead of an answer Tom fell back on the bed with a soft moan.

“Don’t remind me,” he grunted.

Harry smirked triumphantly, glad to have successfully distracted Tom from the dangerous topic of all things Lucius, instantly changing his expression back to innocent the moment Tom raised his head again.

“You need a couple more wizards around you, I think,” Tom mused. “And Severus will be leaving for Hogwarts soon, anyway.”

“Have you someone in mind, then?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Maybe. I’m still contemplating. There are not many powerful wizards or witches among my people. I was thinking about Bella – ”

“No!” Harry cried out indignantly. “I can’t stand her! And she is mental!”

“What she is mainly is loyal. To me. So if I order her to lick your boots she will be down on her knees even before I utter an order.”

“I don’t need a boot-licker,” Harry grumbled. “You can have her yourself.”

Tom sighed heavily.

“Then I suggest another idea. I hold informal dinners on Thursdays, which are attended by most of my inner circle. You can choose yourself, as most of the more powerful of them should be there. The nearest dinner is only tomorrow, so – ”

“I like this. Anyway I need to get acquainted with them, I suppose. If I am to stay here for some time – ”

Tom hummed wordlessly at that and raised his head again, seeking for something at the wall above the fireplace and then at the window.

“What time is it? Tempus,” not even bothering with his wand, he murmured. When nothing happened he frowned and reached for his wand, resting at the night-stand, repeating the spell. Four figures lit up in mid-air above his head, reading “eleven-forty”. “Oh, hell! I have to go – ,” Tom tried to get up, but got pushed back by Harry’s hands on his chest.

“No, you don’t! Lay back down, will you?” Harry urged, when Tom made an attempt to stand up again, despite his efforts. “Where, do you think, you’re going, hmm?”

“Harry,” Tom sighed exasperated. “I have an informal lunch with werewolves in – like fifteen minutes!”

“So when the crisis had passed you’re abandoning me again?!” Harry hissed angrily. “I understand that you don’t care about me. But what of the babies?! You don’t care about them either?!” Harry spat furiously, his eyes burning with tears and rage.

Tom gently pried Harry from himself and stood up, swaying a little at first, but then getting more steady and going to the wardrobe.

“I am not sure it is very wise move to bring you in front of werewolves in your condition, Harry, but if you so wish, you can accompany me.”

Harry, cut off in mid-rant, just gaped at him.

“You really – You would seriously take me with you?” he asked in a small and unsure voice.

“Uhuh,” Tom nodded absently, emerging from the wardrobe with two piles of clothes in his hands. “For you. I’ll change the size, just give me couple of minutes,” he began to dress.

Harry still amazed at the outcome of his outburst, just waited quietly till Tom took his pile of clothes and shrank them to fit his size one by one, holding each one in turn to Harry.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two pieces of news for you :) The good one is that I have several chapters ready up my sleeve, so you can be certain there will be another chapter this week, probably on Friday or early Saturday. The not so good news (at least for you) is that quite possibly when my stock of ready chapters will be uploaded the speed of updates will slow down. As I said earlier, my mom is coming and will be there til mid-August, so I will dedicate most of my time to entertaining her :P Also I suddenly acquired a kitten (rescued poor thing from streets), so I'll spend as much time as I can with him, while we're getting to know each other. It doesn't mean I suddely stop writing, but for a while I'll be spending less time on PC, i.e. no writing or quick responding to comments.  
> And I really love those! Thank you everyone, even if you simply left a smiley or gifted me with kudos!  
> And now enjoy!
> 
> * * *

Harry was trailing behind Voldemort through the corridors of the Dark Mansion to meet with werewolves for lunch. The Dark Lord was giving instructions through gritted teeth, as he was still suffering from light dizziness and nausea.

“Try not to interfere into our conversation. And definitely do not provoke them. Or me, at that matter,” he added thoughtfully. “Werewolves are supernatural beings and I am not almighty, as strange as it may sound, even at best of times in comparison to these creatures, not to mention now, after our little experiment. That was rather foolish of me,” Voldemort admitted.

Harry only sighed, lowering his head. On the one hand, he felt guilty and sorry for the Dark Lord, on the other, though, he was glad to be rid of his usual sickness for a while, not to mention, that Voldemort deserved this a little, what’s with all his anger and absence for the past days, when he clearly was told to stay with Harry and their unborn babies for the safety and health of them all.

“Before you attain a wand, I advise you not to oppose pretty much anyone you may encounter in the mansion. I will, of course, be with you, but as I said, I am not a god. Some of the people visiting this place are beyond even my abilities,” the Dark Lord continued. “Hmm. We need to solve this issue as soon as possible.”

“What issue?” Harry inquired.

“Your wand,” Voldemort grunted annoyed.

“I thought you have it,” Harry said surprised.

“I _had_ it,” Voldemort corrected. “But – ”

“What?! What do you mean, ‘but’?!” Harry cried out indignantly. “Have you broken it?!” Harry clarified with dread.

“I have never thought of breaking it,” Voldemort confessed. “I was still holding onto futile hopes of dueling you properly at the time of your captivity, so it was never my intention to break it. It’s just – ” he trailed off embarrassed. “It disappeared.”

Harry gaped.

“You are a mighty Dark Lord, are you not? How come, the wand of your most dangerous prisoner had ‘just disappeared’?!”

“That was one of the main problems I tried to solve for these past five days. What truly bothers me, though, is that together with your wand my familiar and servant had both disappeared. Nagini, of course, could have gone hunting, but Wormtail is the other matter entirely.”

“What, so you hadn’t killed him? When I haven’t seen him this time I thought you Avada’ed him on sight after my escape,” Harry mused.

Voldemort raised an amused brow.

“Why is that? If anything I should have thanked him, not cursed to death. Especially now, when I learned about the babies. If not for him – ”

“He may have brought me to your bedroom that time, but he also was the one who let me out of the mansion afterwards,” Harry replied.

“I haven’t seen him since then,” Voldemort mused. “Though come to think of it, if he’d set you free, no wonder. But when I was looking for him at that time, Lucius reported to have seen him near my office – ”

“My wand had been in your office, I presume? And did you said ‘Lucius’?” Harry asked in thought, his eyes glinting strangely.

“Well, yes. Why?” Voldemort sent a side-ways glance towards Harry. “Do you know something?” he purred sweetly.

“No, just thinking,” Harry shrugged with an air of innocence to his posture. “So what do we do with my wand then?” he inquired, quickly changing the subject.

“I would continue my search of it. But until it is found, you need another wand,” Voldemort grumbled reluctantly.

“I thought you didn’t want me armed with a wand,” Harry mumbled, averting his eyes.

“No, I don’t. But you still need one,” the Dark Lord grunted. “You are a wizard, are you not?”

“I spend half of my year as a Muggle, I don’t have such attachment to magic as your average wizard,” Harry reasoned. “But I see your point. It is not safe here even with a wand.”

“Not to mention, that you certainly need it through out the day, what’s with your condition,” the Dark Lord admitted. “And wandless magic is dangerous even without being a pregnant male.”

“Don’t tell me,” Harry grumbled. “Wandless Apparation is a nightmare.”

Voldemort chuckled darkly.

“So back to the topic,” he urged. “I have two ideas actually. We can visit a wandmaker. Or I can lend you mine.”

“Wh-what? Why?” Harry gasped.

“If I am correct, our wands are somewhat similar – ”

“Brother wands. The same core,” Harry clarified.

The Dark Lord nodded.

“I presumed something like that. This way you wouldn’t have too much trouble getting used or wielding it.”

“And what about you?”

“I can always borrow a wand from one of my people. They would be only too glad to help,” the Dark Lord said airily, waving his hand in dismissal. “It is not a problem for me – ” he cut himself off abruptly, remembering something, and furrowed. “Though, that could become a minor issue,” he mused softly, barely above a whisper.

“What?” Harry asked with curiosity.

“Later. We’re here,” the Dark Lord stopped in front of the doors, made from the frosted glass, leading onto a terrace, brightly lit with sun. He raised his wand above his own head and hissed something under his nose, which to Harry sounded suspiciously like a spell in Parseltongue.

Immediately, the Dark Lord’s appearance changed to the familiar snake-like one, with no nose, and with bald head and slits for eyes, which remained his usual blood-red, but attained vertical pupils of a snake.

Harry shuddered at the view: “ _Don’t kiss me, when you’re like this_ ,” he mumbled softly in snake-language. Voldemort stretched his lip-less mouth in a smirk, his eyes glinting devilishly for a second and hairless brows wriggling suggestively couple of times, before he changed his expression to a more neutral one.

“ _Don’t reveal your condition to them yet_ ,” the Dark Lord warned Harry in Parseltongue under his breath. “ _I’ll decide when it’s necessary_.” 

Harry nodded in understanding.

* * *

The so called informal lunch turned out to be a rather strange affair.

When Voldemort stepped out onto the terrace, people, who were seated around the oval-shaped table, conversing in hushed voices, stood up out of respect, but not one of them bent their backs in anything akin to a bow. They turned, as one – five men and a woman – towards Voldemort and gave out the slightest of nod each, except for one man, who Harry vaguely recognized as one of the Death Eaters, whom he might have seen in the fight at the Department of Mysteries. The supposed Death Eater made a more pronounced movement, though he, too, seemed less awed by the Dark Lord, his overly exaggerated act looking to Harry as that of mockery, rather then respect.

Not one of them acknowledged Harry’s presence at first, though it was quickly rectified. Voldemort made an inviting gesture towards the table and waited till everyone was seated, before taking a seemingly random place in their midst. But not before he pushed Harry lightly in the back, indicating where the boy should seat, and took one of the two unoccupied chairs out for him. The Dark Lord sat at his chair, after helping Harry to his place beside himself. That had finally got everyone’s attention on Harry. It seemed, before Voldemort’s actions everybody had thought of Harry as someone unimportant, a servant, maybe, or a lower Death Eater brought along by Voldemort for some unknown purpose.

And now they were all staring at Harry, well, at his forehead and his famous scar, in a hardly conceived surprise laced with shock. The only person, not gaping at him, was the Death Eater with familiar face. This one’s expression was even more bizarre, though: he grinned openly, a glint of amusement and mirth in his eyes, which were darting from Harry to Voldemort. Harry threw a brief side-glance of his own towards the Dark Lord, trying to comprehend, what was going on.

When Voldemort warned him not to interfere and not to reveal his condition, Harry thought he should become almost invisible, not attract all attention.

‘ _I should have thought of it beforehand. Their animal senses revealed your condition, I am afraid. No point in hiding anything anymore._ ’

Harry twitched nervously, his gaze again darting to impassive face of the Dark Lord. Did he just imagined that voice in his head or – ?

‘ _Minds connected, remember? Do try not to stare too openly at me, please._ ’ Harry felt something like an imaginary roll of eyes at the end of that statement. Holding in his snicker, he tried to mimic the Dark Lord’s mental eye-roll, but was not sure that it gone through to the addressee.

“Might I inquire, why are you all so surprised at the recent development of events? Had I not informed you that I have an upper hand in my feeble quarry with the Light side?” the Dark Lord asked suavely. “Fenrir!” he snapped suddenly, seeing as the Death Eater continued his rude act.

Harry remembered at last, why this man was familiar to him. Fenrir Grayback, Voldemort’s pet werewolf, who contaminated Lupin, and, according to the rumors, was very fond, in a special way, of small children.

Harry sent a pointed glare to the Dark Lord, when he remembered that fact. What’s he doing in the mansion now?!

Fenrir seemed unhinged by the Dark Lord’s annoyance, his smile growing even wider in a demonstration of his pointed teeth. He winked at Harry before turning lazily to Voldemort, who was almost at the point of throwing curses his way.

“You may speak, Fenrir,” Voldemort said lowly through gritted teeth, with a shark-like scowl of his own. “But do keep in mind, to whom you answer,” he added even more quietly.

Harry’s head began to throb lightly from the Dark Lord’s anger. He shifted uncomfortably on his chair and lowered his eyes to the plate before him.

Urgh! Meat! Almost raw, pink juice seeping out of the fleshy part. Harry gulped down a bile, which was rising in his throat. Now even that strange connection with Tom surely wouldn’t help him, and he would make a scene and disgrace Voldemort in front of his guests!

The Dark Lord beside him took in a strained breath and snapped his fingers suddenly.

Harry anticipated the appearance of a house-elf, but instead the door opened and a man in a black robe and a white mask looked in.

“Change of menu,” Voldemort grunted. “Bring us something light and fresh. Fruit and vegetables, I think,” he ordered regally.

The woman at the table gasped, clearly offended, one of men grunted something in outrage.

The man at the door nodded silently and disappeared, but returned rather quickly.

Harry expected the plates to be changed only for himself and Voldemort, but it seemed the Death Eater serving them was even more stupid, then the ones, who always mixed Harry’s potions. Or it was the Dark Lord intention from the very start, him being the ultimate Slytherin, the king of scheming and cunning.

The plates were changed, thick red wine exchanged for a freshly made lemonade and tea, but the supposed conversation still has not started.

Both Harry and the Dark Lord let out simultaneous sighs of relief, when the smell of meat disappeared behind the closed door, taking away their nausea.

“Matilda, I apologize for this,” the Dark Lord offered. “You as a mother should understand Harry better then these roughnecks.” The fond smile on this lip-less mouth, directed at him, slightly unnerved Harry.

The woman nodded her understanding, a hint of warmth appearing in her gaze, which she turned towards Harry.

“A rare blessing, my Lord,” she said in deep velvety voice, “My congratulations to both of you!”

“I always said, the war is not for females,” grunted the same man, who was the most angered by the change in menu. “You’re not an alpha, Mat, you’re just playing with kids.”

“Stanton, we all know your opinion on the matter, but we’re not here to discuss that,” another man said in warning, before turning to the Dark Lord with a strained smile, “Forgive him, my Lord. And congratulations!”

Voldemort nodded regally.

Stanton grunted something under his breath, still annoyed.

Fenrir suddenly unceremoniously slapped him upside the head.

“Behave, boy, or I’ll speak to your uncle,” he growled threateningly. “My Lord, good catch! Congrats!” he winked at Harry again and smirked.

“Mr. Grayback, you’re, as usual, too blunt,” sighed a man, who reminded Harry of a young PT teacher: athletic figure, neat gold-rimmed glasses and ruffled chestnut hair. He issued an easy grin Harry’s way before, too, turning towards Voldemort with words of congratulations.

“Thank you, Richard,” the Dark Lord nodded. “I was hoping to talk business with you all today, but it seems this happy news distracted not only myself,” he mused. “And besides we have only young Stanton here, in place of his uncle,” he uttered in slight annoyance.

“Pardon me, my Lord, but Craiton is busy with his own baby at the moment,” provided one of the two men with no names given yet. “You must have heard his tearful news,” lowering his head, added the man.

“Indeed, Leon, I am aware of his reasons and sympathize with him. Relay my condolences, please. His wife was a remarkable woman, I heard,” the Dark Lord said softly with a fallen expression.

‘ _Stanton’s aunt passed just two days ago after giving birth to her third child._ ’ Harry heard even more sad voice in his head. Slowly closing and opening his eyes again, trying very hard not to show any emotions, Harry took a sip of his chamomile tea to calm himself and as a possible distraction, in case he failed his attempt at impassiveness.

“Rex, have you heard anything from your cousin, who went to visit the vampires?” the Dark Lord inquired. “I am rather interested in the alliance with them myself, you see.”

Rex, another athlete, looking even more like a body-builder, with piercing and tattoos covering his bare arms and chest, which was seen inside the opened vest, as well as, Harry suspected, the rest of his huge stony body, shook his head vehemently and replied in suddenly soft and almost feminine voice: “No, my Lord, Ralph haven’t return or written to me yet. I’m worried how the vampires might have received him,” he admitted quietly. “You know what everyone says about them,” he murmured gently.

“I have visited them myself long ago, so I don’t think you should worry too much, Rex,” the Dark Lord told him. “They are certainly not fluffy kittens, but they do not devour their guests just for fun, either, believe me. Of course, knowing your cousin, you probably have every right to worry,” he smirked meaningfully.

Harry shot him a side-glance. Vampires? And he’d visited them, too?

‘ _I’ll tell you some other time._ ’

“So, should we postpone this meeting to some more appropriate time, then?” the Dark Lord suddenly suggested. “You would probably want to meet with Dumbledore now, I reckon, after learning today’s big news. I have no intention to hide this joyous affair, so feel free,” he moved his hand invitingly in front of him, “Speak to Dumbledore, speak to your dear ones, I don’t mind. You may even wish to pay a brief visit to a newspaper,” he chuckled. “As long as it is not a Muggle paper, inviting their egg-head scientists to our doorstep, you are welcome to talk to any journalists you want,” Voldemort seemed ready to wink at them. “So until then. Gentlemen, my lady,” a regal nod later he was helping Harry to his feet and leading him out by a hand, though not towards the door they came through earlier, but onto the open part of the terrace and further, into the garden.

* * *

When they left the vicinity of the terrace, the Dark Lord took out his wand and removed the glamour, returning himself human looks. They walked a bit deeper into the garden in silence, Tom still holding Harry’s hand in a gentle grip.

“How are you feeling? I had no option but to raise my shields up a bit, after Fenrir began acting up. I apologize,” Tom said softly.

“You do that a lot lately, don’t you?” Harry gave him a crooked grin. “Apologizing, I mean. I am as well as I could be, no headache anymore, no dizziness. Though, I suspect that one had gone to you together with my nausea?” he smirked again, but his smile had no real malice to it.

Tom shrugged uncomfortably.

“I am getting used to it,” he admitted with a crooked smile of his own. “That’s the least I can do to you as a bearer of my children. You don’t need to go through this alone.”

Harry let out a contended sigh and led Tom to a bench he saw nearby.

“You’re tougher then me, then. But not invincible, so you better sit,” he suggested. “I’d be swaying and stumbling already.”

They sat peacefully for a good five minutes, before Harry blurted:

“You should teach me that mind-talk, too. I’d rather be able to reply then make faces at you during some important meeting.”

Tom squinted his eyes lazily.

“I rather like your faces, when you’re not able to answer verbally,” he smirked. “You’d make a good mime.”

“Prat,” Harry huffed in pretended annoyance, hitting him on the shoulder lightly. “You’d rather I’d be silent all the time, so that you won’t hear painful truth,” he added sarcastically. “You think Snape is enough for you? Nah! I’d like to have my fare share of nasty remarks,” he showed his tongue teasingly.

“I don’t see a forked tongue in that mouth,” Tom snickered.

Harry shuddered and blushed lightly, suddenly remembering their first night.

“You’re mean,” he grumbled, “Firstly you do that pervert thing with your tongue, then abandon me, making me weak again, and now teasing! Cruel, cruel Dark Lord!”

“That I am,” Tom agreed lightly, chuckling under his nose. “I am sorry,” he murmured in a more serious tone, gingerly touching Harry’s shoulder. “I promise, I won’t leave anymore. If I can help it, at least.”

Harry sighed and leaned into him, smiling in satisfaction, when Tom brought his hand around his shoulders, embracing him and shifting him closer.

“I will certainly teach you to converse with me mentally,” Tom confirmed. “And not to stare at me in the process,” he snickered. “That could confuse anyone observing us in public,” he continued. “So no more faces. At least, outside our rooms. Ah! I almost forgot! Do you need a separate room? You’ve mentioned something yesterday.”

Harry shrugged.

“I am okay as it is. It’s not that I’d be spending any time alone soon, so I see no point.”

Tom hummed in agreement.

“By the way, what do you think of our guests today? Aside from Fenrir, of course, I don’t think he is likable to anyone,” Tom smirked, but his smile disappeared, when he glanced at Harry.

Harry was staring in front of him with wide tear-filled eyes, a tentative smile carefully forming on his trembling lips.

“Harry? What’s that?” worried voice of the Dark Lord finally brought Harry out of his trance.

He blinked away the tears and looked up at Tom with pure joy, written all over his face.

“Sorry,” he sniffled, “When you’ve said ‘our’ in front of werewolves, I thought it was a slip, or some werewolf tradition. But now – ” he wiped away the rest of his tears and looked at Tom with timid anticipation lighting his face up.

“Harry, I – ” Tom seemed at a loss. “I meant what I said before, I would gladly provide to my children and their mother. Of course, this is your house! Don’t you dare think otherwise! And of course these were our guests, so I am very much interested to hear, what do you think of them.”

Harry gave him a trembling watery smile, trying to collect himself as quickly and stealthily as possible.

Tom’s hand suddenly dove inside Harry’s robes, but he only searched for his pocket and something in there. When he didn’t found what he was looking for, he let out an exasperated sigh.

“Where’s your calming potion?” he inquired softly.

“Bedroom. Forgot it,” Harry mumbled sheepishly.

Tom brought a gentle hand to Harry’s face and carefully removed all traces of tears from his cheeks with his fingers, then leaned in, his warm plump lips softly touching Harry’s in a ghost of a kiss.

This had worked like a charm, successfully calming Harry due to its unexpectedness and tenderness.

Harry softly sighed into Tom’s mouth, all traces of tears leaving him, and his spirits raising.

Before the kiss could become more heated, Tom moved away.

“ _I am not made from iron_ ,” he hissed softly in Parseltongue. “ _And you’re still unwell._ ”

Harry tried not to roll his eyes. Now, who’s fault was that?

“Right. What were you’re asking? About the werewolves?”

“Yes. If our talks would go well, one of them could become your – err – knight, let’s say, to support the magic of the babies,” Tom responded thoughtfully.

“Knight?” Harry repeated bewildered.

Tom shrugged.

“You may call them as you wish. That’s just something from my youth,” he mumbled with a hint of embarrassment.

“Did you also held court then?” Harry snickered.

Tom winced.

“No. Only knights. The Knights of Walpurgis. I’ve stumbled upon the term in some book and thought it sounded fitting for my purposes then,” he grumbled. “You may want to invent your own name for them, if you’d like,” he repeated.

Harry shook his head with mirth in his eyes.

“It has a nice ring to it! If they need a name, then I like this one,” he gave Tom a grin. “Like an inheritance from the babies’ father, eh?” he suggested merrily.

Tom snorted.

“The Dark Lord’s spawn getting their own army even before their birth, you mean?” he let out a soft laugh. “So mote it be, then,” he winked at Harry.

“So, I get it, all my recent visitors gave you reports?” Harry asked. “Judging by these words, which I said to Barty once,” he added in explanation.

Tom shot him an apologetic glance and mumbled something under his nose.

“What was that?” in mock accusation demanded Harry.

“I was worried,” Tom mumbled, his voice laced with shame.

“So instead of coming on your own two feet you’ve sent spies?” Harry smirked. “Don’t think I forget this any time soon,” he threatened.

Tom sighed, mouthing yet another ‘I am sorry’.

Harry waved his hand.

“Okay, back to werewolves. I liked that woman. Matilda, right? She is looks like a real thing, kind of reminding me of Molly – err – my unofficial adoptive mother, so I’d like to talk to her some day. Is she really an alpha in her pack?” Harry was surprised.

Tom nodded.

“Her clan mostly consists of young ones and women, who don’t fit well into other packs. Of course, there are some grown men among them, too, but they are few in numbers and they are not very high in the pack hierarchy. I will arrange for a separate meeting with her at the earliest date possible. Our talks are an entirely different matter, and I think she would be delighted to help you with anything either way, despite our progress with the alliance.”

“Alliance?”

“Yes. I try to make peace with benefits, so to say, with most of the non-human races of the Wizarding world. The Ministry has very low regard towards them, so they are more likely to sway our way, than run to Dumbledore and his non-human registry officers. What about other werewolves?”

“The one with glasses seemed cool,” Harry admitted. “We might become friends after one or two meetings,” he added.

Tom smirked.

“Was it my imagination, or did you check him out?” suggestively purred the Dark Lord.

Harry blushed and pointed an accusing finger at him.

“If I was not mistaken someone practically undressed poor Richard with his silken gaze right there!”

Tom’s smirk widened.

“So my gaze is silken, you say?” he purred.

Harry suddenly deflated.

“If we continue like this, we never make it to bedroom,” he deadpanned.

Tom had decency to blush, his cheekbones becoming rose-pink and dimples appearing on his cheeks.

Harry’s eyes glinted at the sight.

‘ _I wonder if one can take pictures inside the Pensive –_ ’

‘ _Firstly you need to acquire one_ ,’ came snide reply, interfering Harry’s supposedly private thoughts.

‘ _Are you going to listen on my thoughts all the time now?!_ ’ Harry let out mental outraged cry.

‘ _When they are of me – yeesss –_ ’

Harry smacked Tom on the top of the head with his palm.

‘ _Pervert!_ ’

‘ _But you like me anyw –_ ’ even in the relative privacy of his mind Tom cut himself off, immediately retreating from Harry’s thoughts, as if scalded.

Before he managed to jump to his feet and ran away, Harry, anticipating something like that, jumped at his lap with a frightened yelp, tightly clutching Tom by the neck. All his act was very much similar to the act of some damsel in distress from the eighteenth century.

“What’s wrong?” Tom didn’t caught onto his act, his voice full of worry.

“I th-think I saw something,” Harry gulped, continuing to play a frightened girl part. “Mouse?” he added unsure.

“Rat?” suggested Tom with a meaningful raise of a brow.

“I don’t think he’ll dare show himself, even if he come back here for some reason. No, I think, that was a normal mouse,” Harry let out a sigh of relief. Now he needed to keep in mind that he should act up upon seeing the poor animals. Or he’d never hear the end of it.

“So, do you get it? The mental connection,” Tom clarified, Harry’s act successfully distracting him from his intention to flee again. “In our case it is really as simple as a wish to communicate to each other and a slight decrease of inner shields – Oh, right, I totally forgot!”

“What now?” Harry inquired.

“I noticed earlier, but that just won’t do – Have you ever heard of Occlumency?”

“Occlumency?” Harry echoed, wincing involuntarily. “Yeah. Never learned it properly, though,” he admitted. “Last year Dumbledore made Snape teach me, but – ” he furrowed. “Come to think of it, he must have done it on purpose,” Harry mused. “What’s with him being who he is.”

“Hmm. We certainly need to return to the matter of Snape later. But this is more urgent,” Tom pressed. “Occlumency for you and me should become vital, if we would like to remain ourselves, while still sharing the connection. Do you understand, Harry?”

Harry shrugged and shook his head.

“Not really,” he confessed. “What it has to do with anything?”

“Think again, Harry.” Tom sighed. “Just now I saw into your mind with ease, the same as before, when we met with werewolves. In normal cases one should arrange this beforehand, each party agreeing to lower the shields to be able to use any mental links to such advantage, as we had. But I simply slithered into your mind,” he reminded.

Harry shuddered, unwanted memories of last year making him wince.

“Would you kindly use more impassive terms, please?” he mumbled in discomfort, trying no to move away from the other too openly.

Tom’s brow furrowed.

“Pardon my bluntness, Harry, but this is truly important, and you need to understand it.”

“You don’t need another emotional breakdown of a pregnant teenager,” Harry grumbled. “But do move on.”

Tom sighed.

“What I am trying to explain here is that you don’t have even the thinnest of shields up there in this pretty head of yours. And you need them badly. For your safety, as well as for both of our comfort and calmness. When I dragged your sickness upon myself, it took me only to lower my own shields a bit and our minds got connected, glued like magnets to each other. I am still not sure, maybe that’s our strange connection, or a side-effect of the pregnancy, or a mix of both, or something else. But if you want your mind be your own, you need those shields and for this you need to learn Occlumency, and possibly even Legilimency. Though that one can certainly wait,” he added.

“If I agree, can I chose a teacher?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Certainly. I can talk to Snape, so that he won’t jeopardize the lessons this time around – ”

“Have you heard me just now? I said, I want to _chose_!”

“Err – Yes?”

“I want you to teach me,” Harry deadpanned.

“Me? B-but, Harry – ”

“Are you worse teacher than Snape?” Harry snickered. “Even if you would talk to him, the man can’t teach a bird to fly, if he wanted. I don’t know why Dumbledore hired him or kept him for so many years.”

“Are you sure you want me looking into your head?” Tom inquired with a strange tone.

“And what were you doing for the past few years?” Harry retorted. “I’d rather that would be you and not someone we both do not completely trust,” he added quietly. “And I don’t know about yourself, but these days I trust only the father of my babies,” Harry whispered, taking Tom’s hand into his own and putting their intertwined limbs onto his stomach.

Tom let out some sound suspiciously similar to sniff, shifting on the bench and encircling Harry with his free hand, so that he hugged him completely, and put his forehead atop Harry’s head, hiding his face in his hair.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry (not really XD) for everything Tom shoud go through. I have a tendency to make the characters suffer, if I really like them :P
> 
> * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you remember, I've said earlier, that I might slow down the updates for some time. At the moment, when I am uploading this chapter, I have three quarters of the next one written, but I am a bit stuck there, and also RL (in the form of my mom and new kitten) still takes all my time and mind. I hope it is temporary and I'll be back in a week or so.   
> I'm posting this chapter as promised. ;-)   
> Thanks for your comments and kudos! <3  
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> * * *

_A week ago, Grimmauld Place’ 12._

Hermione was overjoyed, when she accidentally overheard Dumbledore making a fire-call to Madame Pomfrey asking her to come quickly, because Harry appeared on the doorstep of the Order Headquarters and needed her assistance.

Thinking that she might learn something useful in the area of wizarding magic, if she listen on the medi-witch healing Harry, and of course terribly worried for her friend, Hermione made a tough but necessary decision.

So now she was lying with her ear pressed to the floor in the room above the one, to the which Dumbledore took Harry after his arrival. Thanks to one of the Weasley Twins inventions, she could clearly hear most of the spells Madame Pomfrey used, as well as hear their talk with Harry.

Little did she knew that there was two more people shamelessly listening on the same talk, hiding under the staircase half a floor lower than the one with the room serving as a temporary hospital.

Ginny was dusting a windowsill in one of the upper-floor rooms, when she accidentally glanced outside at the space in front of the threshold of the house. Seeing a glimpse of a familiar figure there, she rushed from a room and ran downstairs, but her Harry had nowhere to be seen. Ginny caught site of her bewildered-looking older brother and took Ron under the stairs to her favorite hiding spot. Ron was white as sheet, as if he’d seen a ghost and stuttering something suspiciously sounding like “Harry’s back!” pointing a trembling finger either to the front door or to the room, where Dumbledore had led their friend.

The two youngest Weasleys thought it was rather strange, that the Headmaster hadn’t announced Harry’s arrival to everyone concerned, who had been in the house at the moment, so they took it upon themselves to solve the puzzle and perused the same Weasley Twins invention, as Hermione, to listen on the same talks.

* * *

Hermione pressed her ear closer to the hard wood, finally hearing Dumbledore’s voice after almost three hours of only random medical terms and spells reaching her from the room below.

“What is it, Poppy? Something’s wrong?” Headmaster inquired worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” echoed Harry’s agitated voice with even more worry.

“ Harry, did they do anything to you? Aside from t-torture, I mean,” the nurse asked.

“Do to me? Like wha–?” Harry wondered.

Hermione strained her ears to catch what the medi-witch whispered: “Raped. You were raped.”

Hermione gasped and brought a hand to her mouth in shock: “Oh, Harry!” she mumbled, tears blurring her gaze.

“It was an accident,” Hermione heard Harry mumble. “Not a r-rape.”

“Harry,” Madame Pomfrey called, “you don’t need to hide. It was not your fault, dear, I’m sure. No need to feel ashamed.”

Hermione sniffled quietly. Her poor friend! he’d already suffered through a lot during these years and now this!

“Harry, do you know, who – ?” the mediwitch asked carefully.

“Why? Why does it matter?”

“Harry, it should be a real shock to you, and I don’t know how to say it, but – ”

“What is it?”

“You are pregnant, dear!” Madame Pomfrey deadpanned.

Hermione’s eyes widened. That was not possible, Harry was a man, and men do not get pregnant! Madame Pomfrey must have said something else – 

“What?! How?! It – it is impossible! I am a guy! Men don’t get pregnant!” Harry stuttered in shock, echoing Hermione’s thoughts.

“Harry, no! Of course, it is quite rare, but some wizards can bear children, despite being male. It is not totally impossible, as magic can do real miracles deemed impossible in Muggle world.”

Hermione sat up abruptly, her hand again on her mouth, to hold in her shocked gasp. That was unbelievable! She needed to research this all thoroughly – 

Shaking her head, Hermione remembered, that it was her friend down there and not some interesting medical case from a book. She tried to listen more, but managed to catch only several muffled phrases: “ – know the father?” Dumbledore inquired. “ – can learn the identity – the abortion – ”

Hermione let out the outraged cry, quickly gagging herself with a fist, she’d brought to her mouth, tears streaming down her paper-white cheeks. Poor, poor Harry! Just when he had the chance at a family, Hermione knew, he always wanted – 

Suddenly determined, Hermione went for the door, with an intention to barge in that torture chamber and stand up to her friend.

“This is my baby and my body!” Harry’s snarl was heard even without the magical ear.

Hermione stopped at the door and returned to the floor to listen on more.

“Harry, my dear, you are still a minor – ”

“No, he is not, Albus.”

Hermione startled at the loud and angry voice of a usually kind medi-witch and listened on her explanation for a while, the gears in her head already moving and vague plans forming on how to help her friend. Thinking, she heard enough, Hermione raised to her feet again. She would ask Harry in person, who the father was, when she’d be able to get him out of here. Now she needed to collect herself in order to prepare an escape route for them both, before the Headmaster went completely crazy and did something to a defenseless ‘mother’.

Hermione gulped at the thought, still a bit shaky and dizzy, after the awful and unbelievable revelation. She would have the time for a breakdown later, when Harry and her would be far away from this sudden and unexpected cruelty of the Headmaster. Shaking her head, Hermione rushed from a room to her own bedroom to get the necessary things and, possibly, warn Ron and Ginny.

* * *

Meanwhile the youngest Weasleys were listening on the same conversation, but with entirely different outcome.

When Ron heard the dreadful word “rape”, he blanched and recoiled from the magical ear he shared with Ginny, gasping loudly and seemed ready to burst.

“Ron, calm down,” Ginny hissed, her hand shooting to his mouth to gag him. “Later,” she mouthed to the wide-eyed redhead. “They’d hear!”

They listened on for some more time, until it was time for Ginny to stumble away, stifling sobs with a tightly clenched fist in her mouth.

“Pregnant?!” Ron mouthed outraged. “B-but,” he began, his voice raising a bit.

Ginny roughly slapped him upside the head. Ron’s face turned red and he opened his mouth, but never managed to shout, as Ginny put one hand on his mouth and grabbed his shoulder with another, roughly manhandling him, steering towards the stairs and up to one of the rooms there.

They didn’t listen long enough to hear the part of the discussion about the possible father, but Ginny managed to catch the tail of Dumbledore’s suggestion of an abortion. So she was fuming and frothing at her mouth, when both siblings finally found some relative privacy in the farthest room on the upper floor.

“How dare he?!” Ginny yelled, her gaze ablaze with fury. “Harry never agrees to it! – Ron, say something,” she pleaded, when her brother didn’t react, shaking him by the throat, she was holding him by from the moment he tried to wrestle free while they had still been going up the stairs.

“Can’t breathe,” Ron let out in strained voice.

“Good!” Ginny barked. “They shouldn’t know we heard that!” she released Ron and began pacing the room. “We need to help him, Ron. To get him out of here – ”

At that moment they both heard a loud noise from downstairs: sound of a breaking glass and incoherent shouts in familiar grandfatherly voice of Dumbledore.

Ginny stopped her pacing and sharply turned to Ron.

“What was that?” her voice dropped in volume drastically at the end of the question. “Harry?!” she rushed out of the room and ran downstairs.

* * *

Hermione was frantically rummaging through her things and books, she managed to snatch from the library moments ago in a whirl of frenzied packing rush, when she heard a sound of a glass breaking and Dumbledore’s outcry of “Harry, come back here!”

Startled, Hermione turned to the closed door of the now empty room she usually shared with Ginny, but made no movement to go out. Instead she came to the door on tiptoes and pressed her ear to the wood surface, automatically taking out the magical ear and activating it.

After couple of minutes of tentative listening, a Cheshire’s smile appeared on Hermione’s lips.

“Good boy, Harry!” she mouthed. It seemed Harry managed to escape on his own.

Now she only needed to do half of the things she planned: rent a room at Muggle London, or, better yet, outside of it, somewhere in a suburb, and contact Harry somehow. Or maybe he would contact her on his own again. She made a mental note to read all she could about Wizarding male pregnancies. Not only it was very interesting, but she needed to help her poor friend, so she needed to be prepared for anything.

Sighing, Hermione removed the magical ear from her own and returned to her packing. No way she was staying here now!

When her parents left for Vietnam, instead of going on vacation with them she was brought here to help organize Harry’s birthday party and attend it later, but now all of this didn’t make sense. So there was no point in staying. And besides, this rule-breaking was a bit exciting, and she now understood Ron and Harry’s wish to rebel all the time.

Another grin appeared on her lips, her eyes glinting with excitement. She was still contemplating whether she should tell Ron and Ginny everything, or at least something, or even include them in her plans. She decided to put this aside for later, when the necessary preparations here were finished and she would be leaving.

There still were some books in the library, she wanted to take with her, and there was also the matter of performing magic, when technically she was still underage. When they would be on the run magic could become handy, although, being a muggleborn, Hermione was ready to live without it for a while, until she’d be of age. And anyway Harry was already emancipated, according to the medi-witch. Of course, Hermione planned to research this, as well. But for now – packing and rest. She had a tough times ahead of her.

* * *

“We should head back, before our resident self-appointed nurse sends out a search party,” Tom murmured softly with a clear reluctance in his voice after several minutes of comfortable silence. Harry sighed and shifted in his arms.

“It’s already late. I think, I hear clatter of potion vials and just saw a hooked nose peeking out of the bushes,” Harry sniggered.

Tom hit him on the back halfheartedly.

“No need for cheek, brat! Let us go,” he said sternly, but a smile, threatening to overcome his lips, betrayed his amusement. “I won’t carry you all the way, you are perfectly able to walk on your own two feet,” Tom grumbled, when Harry still hadn’t stood up. “And thanks to you I am still a bit sick,” he grunted under his breath.

“That was your idea, don’t give me that,” Harry huffed. “And I was serious about Snape, here he comes,” he pointed to the dark figure striding along one of the garden paths towards them. “He carries anti-nausea potion in his pocket all the time now. If you ask nicely, he might even share,” Harry smirked.

“I don’t need to ask, I can just order him!” Tom grumbled.

“But if you ask, he will be so-o surprised,” Harry snickered. “Imagine that – Oh, hi, Severus!” Harry chirped, beaming at the sour Potions Master.

Snape nodded, looking like he wanted to say something, but the Dark Lord beat him to it.

“Severus, may I inquire if you, per any chance, have some potion for nausea on your persona?” Tom asked politely.

Harry smirked.

Snape gave out a long suffering sigh and with an expression of endless patience on his face hold out the vial to Harry.

Harry let out a bark of laugh and pushed Snape’s hand with a potion towards Tom.

Snape raised a curious brow.

Tom took the vial with indignant air and drank the medicine. His face almost immediately acquired a more normal color.

“Did you wanted to say something, Severus?” the Dark Lord calmly inquired.

“Yes, my Lord. Harry is due his share of potions,” Snape gave Harry a pointed look. “Also I was asked to relay a message from the Healer. He got hold up at the Ministry this morning, so he will be able to visit only in the late afternoon at the very least, or they may even keep him there till tomorrow.” Snape’s face was as impassive as one could be, when anticipating the inevitable torture.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, Tom,” Harry said softly, looking at the Dark Lord from under the fringe.

The Dark Lord, whose hand was already on the wand, let out a sigh and released the handle.

“Very well, Severus. If this is all – ?” he raised a brow.

“No, my Lord. There is another matter, requiring your attention,” Snape admitted.

“Do tell,” the Dark Lord urged him.

Snape shot a brief glance Harry’s way, but continued upon the Dark Lord’s impatient wave of a hand.

“You’ve asked to inform you – On a certain development – ” Snape again shot a pointed glance towards Harry.

When Tom seemed not to understand what he was hinting at, the Potion Master seemed ready to roll his eyes exasperatedly.

“It is about a particular potion you made me research recently,” Snape gritted through his teeth, his face unreadable.

At last Tom caught up onto his vague words.

“Oh, that! You can make a report in writing. I am not planning to leave Harry’s side any time soon,” the Dark Lord said with an air of finality to his words. “I’ll be in our chambers. I trust, Harry’s potions are already there?”

“Of course, my Lord,” Snape left with a slight bow.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked with a curiosity written all over his face. “Oh, and what Algie is doing at the Ministry?” with a hint of suspicion to his voice inquired Harry.

“Algernon is an external consultant to the Unspeakables, sometimes they require his assistance with the issues pertaining to medical theory. He is well versed in many areas of his own expertise and specializes in the most interesting and rare medical cases. So Snape’s choice of Healer had been remarkably thoughtful,” Tom explained, ignoring Harry’s earlier question completely. “I think it is time to return inside. You need your potions and rest.”

“As do you,” Harry grumbled reluctantly. “Don’t think I don’t know that you were planning to occupy yourself with some Dark Order business, while I’d be sleeping! And this just won’t happen!” Harry poked him with his finger, as if to make his point.

Tom couldn’t contain his soft smile at hearing that.

“We’ll see.”

* * *

Harry was sorting the multicolored vials with potions on a nightstand on “his” side of the bed, lining them up in the order he should drink them and shot brief glances from under the fringe at Tom, who was trying to make himself comfortable in an armchair near the fireplace, stacks of papers littering a tiny glass table and a floor at his feet.

“And you say those are the most urgent reports?” Harry snorted in disbelief. “Are your troops made of school-nerds with an affinity to write ten-feet essays, or something?”

Tom gave him a crooked smile.

“I think, they are simply afraid to report in person,” he sniggered. “So when I ordered to resort to writing they gladly complied.”

“Are you going to read that lot now?” in mock horror Harry inquired.

Tom shrugged.

“Might as well. You need to rest – ”

“And you don’t?”

“I think I would fare – ”

“No, you don’t! And that’s not up for debate!” Harry claimed and stalked to Tom. Grabbing several scrolls, the Dark Lord was contemplating, and forcefully shoving them onto the huge messy pile on the table, loosing them among other scrolls there, Harry took Tom by his hand and dragged him to bed. “You’re going to sleep, as well. Our twins need all the magic and energy we have, so we both should rest.” He pushed Tom down on to the blanket, with his hands on Tom’s chest. “Lay down, will you,” Harry grunted, when the Dark Lord made no effort to either comply or fight him, just sitting there with a careful expression. “You know, I think, I have some Dreamless Sleep in there somewhere,” Harry motioned with jerky hand towards the multicolored line of vials. “And I can easily force feed it to you. Don’t think that I won’t dare. Or that you’ll be able to evade it,” Harry added with a malicious smirk. “The Hat so did want to put me in Slytherin, you know.” He’s smirk widened at Tom’s surprise. “So rest assured, I have some rather nasty tricks up my sleeve,” winking, Harry finally managed to bring Tom’s form down onto the bed. He plopped down beside the Dark Lord, never letting go of his hand, and snuggled closer tho the man, resting his head on Tom’s shoulder for good measure.

“Why did you choose the House of Lion though?” Tom asked softly.

Harry only sighed with satisfaction in response.

“That’s a tale for another time, I think,” he let out a tired giggle. “And now sleep,” murmuring, he shifted on Tom’s shoulder seeking the more comfortable position. “And they say I’m scrawny,” he grumbled. “You’re all bones yourself. Must have been hard to grow up during war times – ” the next moment the only sound Tom could hear was Harry’s breath.

With a sigh of his own the Dark Lord laid there for some time, just staring at the ceiling without any coherent thoughts crossing his mind, only some half-formed images feeling his head. And he was not sure any more, whether they were his own or belonged to the boy in his arms.

* * *

Hary woke up alone, his mood instantly going sour at the thought that Tom again abandoned him and the unborn babies. The room was quiet, no sound coming from the bathroom either, so Harry deduced, that Tom really left him again.

Remembering their morning talk, Harry tried to reach for Tom mentally.

‘ _And where are you frigging around this time?_ ’ even Harry’s mind-speech was angry and demanding.

‘ _I apologize. Got hold up a little._ ’ Tom’s mental voice was strange, as if strained. ‘ _I’ll return as soon as I can._ ’

‘ _Tom? What’s wrong?_ ’ for some reason Harry got a bit worried over Tom’s short comment. He was ready to berate him for his absence just seconds ago, but his anger dissipated rather quickly, when he felt Tom’s invisible presence through their link.

‘ _Later_ ,’ came the reply, Tom’s mental voice becoming less clear, as if Harry was hearing it through a pillow. The feeling of the invisible presence, too, began to dissolve.

‘ _Tom!_ ’ Harry called out, already understanding, that Tom’s end of their connection got shut off and the Dark Lord couldn’t hear him any more.

* * *

Several hours later Lucius found Harry nervously pacing between the bed and the door, picking and immediately throwing aside random scrolls with reports, left by the Dark Lord.

“Lucius!” Harry called out worriedly. “Do you know, where Tom had gone? Did something happen? Why has he not returned yet? I can’t sense or hear him!”

Malfoy stopped at the threshold at Harry’s outburst. Giving him a wary glance, the blond carefully responded: “I’m not entirely sure. Something must have come up, stalling his return.”

“But from where? Where did he go?”

Lucius gave a nonchalant shrug.

“He doesn’t report to me on his whereabouts. And one doesn’t question his Lord’s actions.”

Harry just scowled at his cheek and shook his head exasperated.

“What are you doing here then?”

“Same as usual,” Lucius grunted. “Feeding my magic to your blasted babies.”

“Careful, Lucius,” Harry grumbled with threat in his voice. “That’s your Lord’s children you’re talking about.”

Lucius huffed indignantly.

“Are you going to tell on me then?” he smirked triumphantly.

Harry let out a bark of laugh at that.

“I may not need to,” he smiled maliciously. “He might have heard you already,” Harry purred sweetly, his mood taking a one-eighty suddenly. “He is coming,” Harry hissed in theatrical whisper, widening his eyes warningly.

Lucius shuddered, his face paling drastically.

Harry heard Lucius gulp loudly and let out another bark of laugh, this one more jovial, then the previous.

Suddenly the door creaked, opening and letting Tom in.

“Lucius, leave,” the Dark Lord commanded harshly, stopping just shy of the door and leaning nonchalantly on the frame.

Malfoy startled, issued something between a brief nod and a slight bow and quickly left without a second glance at Harry, whose full attention was already on the Dark Lord anyway.

“Where have you gone?” Harry began in a condescending tone, stalking to Tom in threatening steps.

Tom sighed and suddenly swayed on his feet.

Before Harry could reach him, his form slid tiredly down the wall, his legs giving in under him.

“T-Tom!” Harry rushed to his side and tried to help him up.

“Don’t,” Tom let out in hoarse voice. “I can manage – ” he tried to stand up from the floor, but made it only on the third try, stumbling to the bed in heavy unstable steps and collapsing on it.

“What happened?” Harry inquired worriedly. “Are you hurt? Wounded? Shall I call for Snape? Or Algie?”

“Don’t,” the Dark Lord repeated. “I’ll just rest for a while – ”

‘ _Where did you go?_ ’ Harry asked, even his mental voice worried.

“Vampires,” came a short verbal reply.

Harry gasped.

“Why?!”

“It was necessary.”

“Did they – ?”

“They tried,” the Dark Lord let out a tired chuckle.

Harry sat beside Tom on the bed with a sigh.

“What was so urgent? Couldn’t your men do this instead?”

Tom slowly shut his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath.

“Too much talk,” he mumbled sleepily. “I needed to get Avery out of there. He got himself – ah – ‘stuck’ at the Master’s lair.” He winced.

“Do you always go on a rescue missions for your men?” Harry asked surprised.

“Only when they got themselves almost killed while fulfilling my personal requests,” Tom grumbled. “Can I finally sleep now?” he inquired dryly when no more questions followed.

Harry nodded vehemently and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. I began to worry, when you got disconnected. Sleep.”

The Dark Lord immediately shut his eyes, falling asleep even before fully closing them, it seemed. Harry left seated for a while, simply basking in the other’s body heat and looking at the peaceful expression on the face of the sleeping Dark Lord, before he got up and began quietly collecting the scrolls, lying everywhere on the floor, and putting them in some kind of order. He continued to shot brief glances towards the sleeping form on the bed, as if making sure, the man hadn’t left again.

* * *

About two or three hours later the Dark Lord was still sleeping. Harry was sitting in his armchair with one of the scrolls in his hands, having started to read the reports couple of hours ago out of boredom.

A quiet knock on the door distracted Harry from his dull reading material. It seemed, the Death Eaters were even more sloppy and stupid in their writing, then in their actions, Harry mused, wincing. He raised his head to look at the sleeping Dark Lord, than turned towards the door and called out in soft voice: “Enter!”

Barty’s head appeared in the creak of the half-opened door, an inquiring expression on his face.

“May I?” his eyes darted towards the bed and Barty lowered his raised foot, not crossing the threshold. “Sorry, I’ll come later,” he murmured very quietly.

“Please, don’t leave!” Harry pleaded in half-whisper. “He won’t mind, I’m sure. And I’m bored!”

Barty gulped, still looking fearfully at the Dark Lord’s sleeping form.

Harry sighed. “Barty, don’t worry, even if he does mind, I am here. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Harry tried to assure the scared Death Eater. “And he won’t do anything to _me_ , you know it.”

Sighing in resignation, Barty entered the room.

“What are you reading?” he inquired in surprise, seeing the stack of reports at Harry’s lap.

“Reports from you, people. Might do something productive, while coped up here,” Harry shrugged. “These papers look as if written by a toddler,” he complained, wincing. “Even I can do better,” he snorted. “And I am still a school-boy. I haven’t seen this many mistakes and misspelling since I had been in my first year at the pre-school!” He shook his head exasperated. “Are your reports just as bad? Are they even in here?” he mused in curiosity, going through the scrolls in search of Barty’s report.

Barty snorted. “I don’t think so. My Lord,” he glanced at the bed and lowered his whispering voice even more, “prefers to hear every news about you in person, rather then read them, as he can’t very well Crucio me for my ‘disrespect’ this way,” he smiled crookedly.

“I hope you’re joking,” Harry said. “He can’t be throwing curses all the time.”

Barty shook his head. “I wish he – ” he shut up abruptly, going cross-eyed from his attempt to glance at the bed and to continue to talk to Harry at the same time: the Dark Lord shifted in his sleep, a soft strangled moan escaping his parched pale lips. Barty shuddered.

Harry waved his hand. “Don’t mind him,” he suggested. “Did you found that Quidditch magazine I’d asked about last time?”

Barty, moving slowly, like enthralled rabbit under cobra’s gaze, produced the magazine in question from out of his robe-pocket, his eyes not leaving Voldemort’s restlessly moving body for a second. Harry looked at the bed as well, but shrugged nonchalantly and took the magazine out of Barty’s slightly trembling hand, immediately going through the pages in search of something.

“Ah, here! Yes! Barty, you owe me three Sickles!” Harry grinned and looked at the Death Eater.

At that moment the Dark Lord sat up abruptly, as per his usual habit to stand up even before he woke properly. Not minding anyone in the room Voldemort stalked to the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.

Barty let out a soft nervous laugh.

Harry threw an inquiring glance at him.

“What’s wrong? Don’t say you fear him even now,” Harry asked in amusement, raising his brow.

Barty nodded jerkily.

“You have no idea – ” he trailed off at hearing a loud noise from behind the closed bathroom door – the Dark Lord managed to knock something to the floor in there.

Harry sent a brief worried glance in the same direction, wondering, what had gotten into Tom. Then he returned his attention to Barty, who gradually began to relax in the absence of the feared Dark Lord.

“So, three Sickles?” Harry held out his hand to Barty in a demanding gesture, with his palm facing upwards.

Barty rolled his eyes, but took out his purse to fulfill his end of their bet.

“Here. Why is it always three?” he whined. “I began to carry around more change then ever due to your pettiness,” he snorted.

Harry took the coins, sticking his tongue out. “Because it annoys you so,” he smirked. “And I like hearing the rattle of coins in your pockets, when you move around,” Harry let out a snigger, but suddenly sobered.

There was another loud noise from the bathroom, after which Harry immediately heard the Dark Lord call him out in his mind. ‘ _Harry, can you help me here?_ ’ the tone of his mental voice was off and before Tom could close off the connection between them, Harry managed to catch a trace of pain the Dark Lord was feeling. Sending a brief glance to Barty, Harry rushed to the bathroom.

“I advise you leave, he is not in a good mood now,” Harry supplied, before disappearing into the bathroom.

Barty shuddered and quickly left after hearing his words.

* * *

Harry entered the bathroom, a question forming on his lips, but closed his mouth, no sound escaping him, when he saw Tom.

The man’s upper body was bare. Several angry red gashes decorated his muscled chest, going across his torso from his right shoulder downwards to his left side. The blood drops along the deep cuts, which looked like claw marks, stood out on his sickly pale skin. Harry could hardly imagine what beast had managed to inflict such damage upon the Dark Lord.

Tom had an untidy bundle of bandages in one of his hands and was heavily leaning on the sink, supporting himself with the other hand, tightly gripping the edges of the basin, his knuckles gone white from the force, with which he clutched his fist.

Harry gasped at the sight.

Tom inhaled loudly through gritted teeth and let out the air in a careful shuddering breath.

“Can you help me with these?” he grunted, demonstrating the gauze. “I tried myself, but – ” Without another word Harry rushed to his side, took the bandages out of his hand and started to untangle them quickly.

“Pray tell, why didn’t you feel the need to say that you were wounded last night?” he grumbled. “I could have called for Algie, or Snape at the very least.”

Tom, now leaning heavily on Harry, furrowed. “This does not concern them,” he gritted. “If you’re unwilling, I’d manage,” he let out another strangled sigh.

Harry felt a ghost of pain, flickering across his own chest, the sensation seeping through the cracks in the Dark Lord’s weakening mental shields.

“Stubborn moron,” Harry murmured softly.

He finally managed to separate several strips of bandages from the chaotic knot Tom made of them.  
“Won’t it be easier, if you sat? Barty left, we can return to the room,” Harry suggested.

“No,” Tom replied shortly. Harry guessed, that he was unsure he could manage the walk that long and not collapse on the way.

Harry sighed. “Do you have any balm or something? These cuts look awful.”

“No. This needs to heal without,” the Dark Lord responded in clipped voice. “Vampires – ”

“Oh! I got it. Don’t talk,” Harry said quickly. “I’m putting the gauze now,” he warned and began slowly wrapping Tom’s chest with the layer upon layer of bandages.

Tom stood patiently, his uneven breathing the only indication he was feeling unwell. Even his grip on Harry’s shoulder became weak, just a way to held himself upright rather then a painful clutch onto the other’s form in seek of support.

“Tom, are you going to faint on me?” Harry inquired softly, when Tom’s hand slid from his shoulder tiredly.

“No.”

“Can you walk?”

“Should.”

Tom made an unsure step to the door, swaying slightly, but managed to steady himself with the hand on the door frame.

“Are you in pain?” Harry asked worriedly, eyeing the barely visible tremble of Tom’s hand on the wall.

“No,” that was clearly a lie, because Harry still felt a trace of Tom’s sensations coming through their mental link. The Dark Lord seemed to not notice the slip, though.

Moving slowly, his back rigid in the attempt to not disturb the wounds on his chest, Tom made it to the wardrobe and opened it in search of a shirt without a blood on it.

“Let me,” Harry gently pushed him out of the way and peaked into the wardrobe. “Do you need some specific clothes or – ?”

“Any will do,” Tom stepped out of his way, but stayed up, not daring to sit. Harry thought, that was understandable, he’d too be holding his body very still and wouldn’t even attempt bending down to lower onto a bed with such wounds, as the ones he’d seen on Tom. Actually, it was surprising, that he’d managed to sleep through the night and allowed Harry to hug him, being in such a pain all the while. And it was even more miraculous that Tom was staying on his two feet now – 

A quiet sigh, followed by a soft thud, behind him attracted Harry’s attention, making him glance away from the wardrobe and over his shoulder at Tom.

At first Harry didn’t understand, where the Dark Lord had disappeared. Whirling around on his heels, Harry lowered his eyes and came upon the sight of the Dark Lord’s still form lying at the floor unconscious.


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the fact that I usually try to have a chapter up my sleeve until I have the next one written and in view of my birthday tomorrow I decided to make a gift for you all, taking a leaf out of hobbit’s book (they tend to give out gifts on their own birthdays, if you don’t know).   
> Anyway, on one side, about half of the next chapter is written already and the rest of it is more or less planned out. On the other side, I have started writing yet another story, I am posting Prologue and the First chapter of it today (or tomorrow) as well, if you are interested (another tomarry, another cliché: Harry goes back in time to adopt Tom). That was shameless self-PR, yeah XD I love those. I want to let couple of chapters of that one out of my mind before I return back to this story and to other posted ones, too.   
> Also, I am going to have the ordinary office job from now on, so will have considerably less free time. This means that I can’t say anything about next update, probably in a month, or on the opposite – in a week’s time (depending on how busy I will be and how tired after working days, or how much free time I’ll have in office to contemplate new chapters).  
> Thanks for the reviews, they make my day every time I see a notice and read them!
> 
> * * *

Hermione was furious. After Harry escaped from Grimmauld Place, Dumbledore had told everyone that their precious Savior was out of his mind a little, due to the torture he’d undergone at the hands of Voldemort, so it was urgent to find him as quick as possible to help him come over it. At first, Hermione had thought that was a wise move not to tell of Harry’s real condition to the Order members, so that they won’t worry even more and wouldn’t be distraught during their search.

She had thought that Dumbledore, too, came to his senses and returned to being the grandfatherly figure for Harry, as he’d been before.

But now Hermione was not so sure anymore.

She was again stealthily listening on the conversation not intended for her ears, or anyone else’s ears, at that matter, aside from those involved in the discussion.

“Headmaster, are you certain, that it won’t make the matters worse?” the voice of Kingsley Shacklebot was laced with worry. “I am not sure, the others will have it in themselves to throw offensive spells at Harry. Hell, I can hardly do it myself!”

“Mr. Shacklebot, I assure you, it could only speed things up. If you happen to come across Harry, you’d better be prepared to Stupefy him and bring him here. From then on it would be my business to talk him back into the fold, so to speak. He’d lost himself a bit, while Voldemort tortured him. You clearly remember the Longbottoms? They were Crucioed to insanity in the matter of hours. And Harry had spent days at Voldemort’s place and under his wand. He is strong young man, but nobody could stay strong that long, you should understand. So just bring him here, and I take it upon myself to heal his clouded mind.”

Hermione bit her lip, trying to suppress the anger upon hearing this. It seemed, Dumbledore remained the same way he had been when Harry returned: stubbornly refusing to care for his student and simply pushing his case on.

When no other significant words were said, Hermione turned on her heels, at last coming to the decision to talk to Ron about her upcoming escape to help Harry.

She never noticed a dark heavy eyes of someone, looming in the corner not far from her hiding place, watching her like a hawk – Sirius had been also listening on the same conversation, and followed her with his gaze, when she headed off to go search for Ron and Ginny.

* * *

Harry somehow managed to raise the unconscious heavy body of the Dark Lord onto the bed and now was sitting cross-legged in his feet, worriedly looking at the unmoving form in front of him. Tom had remained seemingly lifeless for the past two hours, not coming to himself despite Harry’s halfhearted attempts to wake him. Harry was reluctant at first, realizing, that it was probably for the better for Tom to stay unconscious, thus not feeling the unnecessary pain he should have been in otherwise, and to heal a little. But when the second hour neared its end and the Dark lord still stayed like this, Harry began to feel slight worry. He carefully tried to look for that place inside his mind where their connection was, which never fully closed off during all this time. Well, except for that one time, when the Dark Lord made a special effort to cut Harry off during his supposed meeting with vampires the day before.

Harry felt a tiny shred of the other’s mind present inside his own conscious, so he somewhat relaxed. Hopefully, this was the indication that Tom was healing, and the Dark Lord would feel better upon his wake, Harry mused, his tense pose slackening a notch.

Another hour passed in silence. Harry never left his post at the feet of the bed, ignoring the numbness in his limbs and a nagging feeling of hunger slowly growing in his empty stomach. When several minutes earlier he heard the knock at the door and the Death Eater brought his food and potions, Harry sent him away, taking only those vials, which he knew for certain he could drink independently from a meal. He was in no mood for eating anyway, too worried over the Dark Lord to digest anything.

While he was keeping his self-appointed vigil, Harry wondered when he began to care about the Dark Lord so much. No, this was definitely not as simple as a worry for the Dark Lord, Harry held no warm feelings towards Voldemort. But he certainly cared for Tom, the father of his unborn babies. And he was absolutely sure there was a difference between these two figures, at least in his mind. Voldemort had put him into the dungeon, ordered to torture him and sent angry headaches his way through their mental link, when he Crucio’ed somebody. Tom held him tightly through the night, took his sickness upon himself, joked with him and kissed him to calm his hormones down. Sighing, Harry winced at his own sappy thoughts. But what he could do, if it was the truth?! He really was going soft and turning into a hormonal pregnant woman from all of this!

Sniffing quietly, Harry shifted in his place and took out the Calming potion from his inner pocket. He’d made sure it was constantly on him at all times now and intentionally had put it inside his robe, after that incident at the garden the day before. With a crooked smirk Harry inhaled some potion to calm down.

He was starting to seriously freak out now: the half of the third hour passed and Tom still was lying motionlessly! What was worse, that tiny shard of his mind, which Harry had felt earlier, suddenly retracted, leaving him painfully empty and alone inside, even though physically he continued to sense the heat of the body of unconscious Tom near him and continued to hear his slow and uneven labored breathing.

* * *

Almost five hours had gone from the moment Tom had fell unconscious, when he finally stirred and moaned softly, waking Harry, who was nodding off, still sitting at his perch in the feet of the bed.

“Harry?” Tom called out in hoarse and sleepy voice.

“Yeah. How are you feeling?” Harry straitened his legs with a low moan of his own and dragged a hand down his face, trying to wake up.

“Have you been sitting like this the whole time?” avoiding answering his question, inquired Tom in surprise.

“I don’t mind,” with dismissal replied Harry. “How are your wounds? Better?” hope was obvious in his voice.

“I think so,” in unsure tone responded Tom. “At least, I don’t feel anything anymore. Just numb and a bit sore,” he admitted. “What time is it?” for some reason he didn’t took out his wand to cast Tempus.

Harry shrugged.

“Don’t know. Afternoon. You’ve slept for about five hours, I think. I don’t have a watch or a wand, so – ” he trailed off meaningfully.

“Oh, right. Here,” Tom patted himself and raised a brow in surprise, finding out he was still bare-chest, only bandages covering his torso. “Where had I left my robes?” he mused.

“Bathroom, I suppose. I’ll bring them,” Harry got up, but almost fell on top of Tom, his legs still numb from sitting so much time in one position. “Wow! Sorry. Did I hit you?” he rushed to ask, when hearing low hiss of pain from Tom.

“That’s alright,” Tom gritted through his teeth, wincing slightly. “Are you okay?”

“My legs are numb after five hours of sitting,” Harry snorted. “That’s nothing.” He got up again, careful not to lean on Tom’s wounded chest more. “I’ll get your robes.”

“Just my wand will do. It should be in one of the pockets,” Tom clarified.

Harry nodded and went to retrieve his wand, returning in a minute.

“It’s not there,” in a surprised voice explained Harry. “Are you sure, it’s not somewhere on you?” Tom swore under his breath and holding up his palm muttered “Accio wand!” Nothing happened.

Harry raised an inquiring brow at that.

“What’s wrong?”

Tom furrowed.

“Don’t understand,” he grunted. “Accio wand!” he repeated with more force this time. Again no wand came flying into his opened hand.

“Accio Voldemort’s wand!” now Harry tried, but to no avail. He certainly felt a tingle of magic leaving his core in search of the object in question, but the wisp of energy just dissipated into thin air.

“It’s protected from anyone but me summoning it,” not helping, supplied the Dark Lord. “And with a Paseltongue spell, at that – ” he trailed off, slapping his hand on his own forehead. “Fool,” he grumbled.

“ _Accio wand_ ” the Paseltongue of the spell didn’t help either, his wand still was nowhere to be seen. “Fuck,” Tom breathed out angrily.

“That’s not funny anymore,” Harry commented. “What are we going to do now?”

“ _We_ should do nothing,” the Dark Lord corrected him and sat up abruptly, immediately doubling on himself in obvious pain and inhaling loudly, his face scrunched in discomfort. “Bloody hell!” he gasped.

Harry rushed to his side with intent to help, but Tom held up a hand, which shook involuntarily.

“I’m okay,” he gritted and slowly straitened his back, his movements tense. “Blasted blood-suckers,” he grumbled. “I’m going to personally Crucio Avery for this,” he added heatedly.

Harry felt an impeding headache.

‘ _How are you going to, without your wand?_ ’ not hiding his own rising anger and annoyance at the Dark Lord’s wrath, as well as his headache, inquired Harry sarcastically through their mind-link. ‘ _Poke him with your bony finger until he dies from tickles?_ ’

The Dark Lord bared his teeth angrily at Harry.

‘ _Not funny,_ ’ he responded curtly. Harry still managed to feel his chest throbbing painfully along with Tom’s pulse, because their mental connection lingered for another second or two, after Tom tried to cut Harry off from his own conscious.

“Are you absolutely sure you haven’t left your wand somewhere in the Mansion after your arrival? You were wounded,” Harry reminded Tom.

The Dark Lord shook his head minutely and glanced at the door in silent contemplation.

“The door of this room is warded with Parsel, too. My wandless spell just now might have tripped on the wards,” Tom mused and stood up, this time moving his upper body more carefully.

He came to the door, opened it and looked out, scaring a Death Eater, who stood guard on the other side.

Ignoring the Death Eater, the Dark Lord raised his hand and hissed the same spell in Parseltongue, as before, summoning his stray wand. When nothing happened again, he frowned and returned to the room.

Harry winced sympathetically.

“Maybe, you’ve managed to leave it at the vamp’s lair?” Harry supplied, internally preparing himself for the upcoming storm.

Tom shrugged, immediately grinding his teeth from his own careless motion.

“Hope, not,” he grumbled. “It’d be too generous of a gift for the Master.”

At that moment they heard a noise coming from the corridor: something hit the door violently and clattered onto the floor with an unmistakable wooden sound. A tentative knock followed.

“What?!” the Dark Lord barked out annoyed.

The door opened, the scared Death Eater looking inside tentatively.

“My Lord, a wand just collided with your door,” he mumbled and gulped audibly, seeing the Dark Lord stride to the door briskly, his face lighting up in joy and with a satisfactory smirk on his lips.

Before the poor lad could flee, Voldemort reached the door, and his wand consecutively, and, still smirking, picked it up, his movements jerky, and brow furrowing from pain the action caused him. Not showing his discomfort openly in front of the Death Eater, the Dark Lord caressed his wand longingly and without any sort of warning pointed it at the Death Eater, who was still worriedly looking at him.

“Crucio,” in a sing-song voice intoned the Dark Lord, grinning madly and looking like a child, who finally managed to get his hands on his favorite toy after a seriously long waiting.

The Death Eater fell to the floor screaming his lungs out.

Harry winced at the sound, but made no movement to interfere, clearly understanding the Dark Lord’s joy and the extent of unbelievable stupidity of the Death Eater’s actions. No wise man could have barged upon his Lord right after seeing him in an obviously horrid mood and covered in bandages from head to toe. Maybe a full two minutes of Crucio were a bit harsh as a punishment, but Harry let the Dark Lord have his moment of entertainment for now.

Only when the Death Eater at the floor began frothing at his mouth quite literary, the sounds of his screams turning completely animalistic, Harry’s headache rising to an alarming level, he went up to the door and put a careful hand over the Dark Lord’s, attempting to push down his wand and end the curse.

The Death Eater let out absolutely horrid scream at the moment Harry’s hand covered Tom’s on the wand, their magic accidentally combining for a split second, the Dark Lord’s intent dragging along energy from Harry’s magical core, thanks to the weakened mental shields between them.

Tom inhaled sharply.

Harry felt a jolt of indecipherable emotion coming from him through their mental link.

Their intertwined hands lowered, the movement finally ending the curse.

The Dark Lord unceremoniously pushed the tortured man over the threshold with his foot to the man’s side and slammed the door shut.

Harry stumbled to the armchair and collapsed into it with a heavy sigh, bringing his hands up and massaging his aching temples.

The Dark Lord remained near the door frozen, a thoughtful expression creeping upon his face, which had paled drastically over the last couple of minutes.

“Do you realize, what had just happened?” he breathed out with an odd amusement in his voice.

“We nearly killed the poor lad?” Harry supplied angrily. “Why didn’t you lower your wand right away?” he grumbled distraught. “I never had any intention to torture anyone, let alone – this particular man!” Harry cried out in frustration.

Tom seemed to not comprehend what had upset Harry so much.

“Why are you angry?”

“Don’t _you_ realize, what had just happened?” Harry parroted, even more furious now.

Tom shook his head negatively, no trace of remorse or understanding in his attentive gaze, which was directed towards Harry.

“Your unborn children just unknowingly participated in torturing someone!” Harry whispered harshly, a single angry tear going down his cheek, which, in contrast to Tom’s, was sickly gray.

His own words seemed to sink in Harry’s mind finally and he made a mad dash to the bathroom, collapsing onto his knees in front of the toilet and vomiting violently.

Tom came to the widely opened bathroom door, but made no attempt to enter, looming at the entrance and looking at Harry with discomfiture.

“Don’t come near me,” Harry managed to snarl in between angry groans and sobs shaking his whole body, while he was still bending over the toilet, his sickness not subsiding even a notch.

This finally jerked Tom out of his trance.

Not heeding Harry’s request, which sounded more like a furious order, he stepped over the threshold and towards Harry.

“Don’t touch me!” Harry shrieked in rage and again bent above the toilet.

And this order was ignored, too. Tom came closer to Harry and put a steady hand on his back, rubbing it gently in circles.

Harry tried to shrug his hand off, but his sickness took over him, not giving much room to argument.

When Harry finally reclined back, instinctively leaning on Tom’s legs with a tired groan, Tom picked him up in his hands with a barely heard grunt, and carried back to the room, even managing to grab a towel with one hand and water it on his way. He deposited Harry on the ruffled bed and started to gently wipe his face with a towel, still not issuing a word.

Harry had no energy left in him to protest, so he simply allowed this tentative care for a while. When his shivering subsided and headache eased slightly, some color returning to his face, Harry angrily pushed Tom’s hand with an almost dried towel away, the motion successfully knocking the kneeling Dark Lord down onto the floor.

“What was that for?” Tom grumbled under his breath.

“You deserve this and more for that stunt with a wand!” Harry snapped, his eyes flashing angrily.

Tom sat up with a sigh.

“Explain, please. I don’t understand,” he pleaded.

Harry shook his head furiously.

“If you don’t understand, nothing I could say would sink in!”

“Harry, please – ”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? Our magic combined for a moment there, when you were eagerly torturing that man! The magic of the twins was in, too! And you’re glad for that, don’t you?!”

Tom recoiled.

“I would never allow – ”

“But you just did!!! If you lowered your wand – Hell, if you just lifted the curse earlier – !”

“Harry, I – ”

“Listen to yourself,” Harry whispered hoarsely. “It’s always ‘I’, ‘me’ – ” He shook his head exasperated. “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Of our children?” his voice went deadly low. “I think I miss on today’s dinner. Not hungry for some reason.” Harry grumbled suddenly and turned on his side and away from Tom, who was still sitting on the floor with head lowered.

With a tired sigh Harry closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep, but it didn’t come.

* * *

When Snape, as usual, arrived that evening, he came upon the strange sight: Harry was lying on the bed, with his back to the Dark Lord, who was sitting on the floor, leaning on the bed, in a clearly uncomfortable position, his own back tense and rigid, with an air of remorse to his persona, longingly looking with pleading blood-shot eyes at Harry’s turned back.

Thinking, that he’d never seen the Dark Lord in a more degrading position, Snape carefully knocked on the opened door, announcing his presence.

“May I?” he whispered, assuming from Harry’s posture, that the boy was sleeping.

The Dark Lord waved a hand in a lifeless gesture, his eyes not leaving the form on the bed for even a second.

Snape quietly entered the room.

“What did you want?” the Dark Lord asked lowly in a toneless voice.

“Potions,” reminded him Snape. “And that report.”

“Later,” came an impassive voice. “Don’t put it with the others.”

“What about the dinner?” Snape inquired. “Should I cancel it?”

“No. We might be late a little, though,” the Dark Lord let out a shaky breath. “If this is all, you may go.”

“My Lord, what about magic for the babies?” Snape dared to ask.

There was a loud sigh, but the sound came not from the Dark Lord.

Harry turned to lay on his back and looked at Snape.

“Evening, Severus,” he murmured in soft voice. “Did you bring me another batch of your poisons?” Harry gave him a small lopsided smile. “I wonder if there is one for stupid stubborn Dark Lords among them?” he shot a nasty glare at the said Dark Lord.

“What did he do this time?” ignoring the man in question, Snape raised a curious brow.

“Did you happen to stumble upon the dead body beyond our threshold?” Harry retorted. “No? I hoped, there isn’t one, but still – ” he shrugged uncomfortably. “We might have accidentally made another Death Eater into raving mad lunatic with the help of a combined Crucio feeding on both our magic and on babies’, too,” Harry fumed. “And this idiot here had the audacity to be glad about it!” Harry rubbed his face with forceful gesture. “Do you still not understand what’s you done wrong?” he turned his gaze to the Dark Lord, his fury suddenly returning and a burst of his angry magic lashing out at everyone in the room in scalding hot waves. The temperature in the room dropped in mere seconds, the glass on the window darkening with frost.

“Harry, you do realize, that’s not very good for the babies?” Snape admonished him with worry in his voice.

“He’d done it several times already,” the Dark Lord said impassively, not one muscle twitching, despite the obvious discomfort, which such abrupt changes of the temperature had caused to his half-naked body.

“And participating in torture is good for them?!” Harry shrieked, his eyes ablaze with fury. A split second later the fire roared wildly: under Harry’s angry gaze the floor board just shy of the Dark Lord’s knees lighting from a wandless magic outburst. What was curious, despite his clear rage, Harry seemed reluctant to directly attack the father of his children with his magic, even if the magical outburst looked like it was uncontrolled.

Snape noticed that half the room seemed like an old battlefield with several black burnt-out spots on the floor, on the walls and on some of the furniture pieces. One particular spot on the wall was in the form of a rough man figure, looking like someone had made the coal sketch of the outlines of the body, suspiciously similar to that of the Dark Lord.

“Harry – ” Severus was not sure himself, what he was going to say, what he could say to calm this furious storm of fluctuating emotions down and not become another target. There was no need to invent anything: the bonfire, crackling merrily at the Dark Lord’s feet just moments ago, abruptly dissipated with a low hiss, the wooden floor-boards creaking under the growing frost-path rapidly crawling towards Voldemort. The climate changed again, making Snape shiver from cold. The Dark Lord’s body trembled, though he seemed not to notice it, too immersed in his self-appointed watch.

Harry let out a long tired sigh and laid down in almost liquid motion, this time not turning away from the other men in the room.

‘ _I suggest you put something on. Don’t scare poor Sev with your very human and very cold body, will you? Pardon me, but I don’t have the strength to look for a clear shirt for you right now,_ ’ Harry sent a sarcastic mental jab Tom’s way. ‘ _We are still expected at your so-called informal dinner, as I understand._ ’

Tom sighed quietly and slowly raised to his feet. Throwing a sideways glance at Harry, he went to the wardrobe, his movements jerky and rigid.

Snape carefully stepped closer to the bed and held out several colorful vials with potions to Harry, one after the other.

“You might want to drink these, as well,” he suggested, adding two other small bottles to the customary batch of medicine. “That’s mild Calming Draught. I consulted with Algie earlier, you may consume it sometimes, just don’t make a habit of it. And this one is Magic Replenishment. My Lord, I advise you to drink one, too,” looking at the Dark Lord with a carefully blank expression, added Snape.

Voldemort gave out a jerky nod and came to the Potions Master, holding out his empty hand.

“May I inquire, if you have some Blood Replenishment potion with you too, Severus?” the voice of the Dark Lord was polite, low and toneless, as if he didn’t truly care if he get the potion or not, asking just in case he could get one, but not really needing it.

Harry raised a silent brow upon hearing that, the gesture almost identical to the one Snape would gladly show, if it was not the Dark Lord asking the question.

“Certainly, my Lord,” producing the required potion from his pocket, replied Snape.

The Dark Lord took the vial and, briefly glancing at Harry for some reason, drank it.

“Severus, you may go to the dinner, we will arrive shortly,” with a wave of his hand Voldemort sent Snape away.

As soon, as the door closed behind the Potions Master, Harry stepped up to the Dark Lord with a mildly annoyed expression. All he did though was to smooth down some wrinkles on the other’s shirt silently.

‘ _You are still angry at me,_ ’ the Dark Lord deduced mentally.

Harry scoffed at that.

‘ _I will remain angry until you understand the reason behind my anger,_ ’ Harry retorted. ‘ _As for now, we have a social affair to attend,_ ’ he winced, ‘ _which happens to be important for both our magic, as well as for your future heirs’ health. So I’ll drop the matter for now._ ’

Sighing, Harry went to the wardrobe, too.

“Need help?” offered Tom in a neutral tone, seeing Harry critically assessing several items of clothing for their fitness for his small frame.

“Please,” Harry grumbled reluctantly, giving the pair of black trousers and the simple white shirt to him.

Tom slowly took out his wand and traced the outlines of the clothes with the tip of it, mumbling a quiet incantation under his breath.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

“Shall we?” Tom offered Harry his hand, after they both dressed and freshened up in bathroom, one after the other.

Harry let out yet another sigh but accepted the offered hand. They left the room.


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long absence (as of Apr., 2018). A lot unpleasant (to say the least) stuff had happened. A brief note is on my LJ, if anyone's interested.  
> I am finally back to writing, though the writing style and mood could have changed a bit, due to circumstances.  
> I have couple of more chapters of MoD, but still try to polish them to my liking - seems like I've lost some of my writing skills along the way, too, or just became more critical towards my own texts. Some of you may even find the boundary, dividing the part of this chapter, which had been written last Autumn, from the part, which I wrote just recently.  
> You can expect two-three more chapters in the near future. Right now I am in the middle of writing chapter 13, and rewriting 11th and 12th. >.<  
> In addition, I am meaning to post the beginning of at least one (or maybe even two) new tomarry (or harrymort) stories.  
> And also I'm planning a special treat for readers of MoD ;-p Though firstly, I need to check again if the rules of the archive will allow me to do it the way I want.  
> Stay tuned! :-)  
> Your reviews are always welcome, and now even more then ever before! <3 <3 <3
> 
> * * *

“Any instructions I should follow at dinner?” Harry asked on their way towards the dinner hall.

Tom shook his head minutely.

“Just the usual. Don’t provoke anyone. Ah, I almost forgot. Here,” Tom held out his wand, carefully holding it by the tip. “As we discussed. I don’t want you without a wand when among my people. Even the Inner Circle. I’ll take Lucius’.”

Harry frowned, but nevertheless took the Dark Lord’s wand, although reluctantly.

“I don’t think I need to ask if it will obey me,” he grumbled. “We just recently discovered it will. And gladly.” He huffed and pursed his lips. “Why are you so sure Malfoy would share? Doesn’t he need it, too?”

“Not my problem,” the Dark Lord grumbled. “He can wield a fork for all I care,” he snorted. “Or go buy new one right after dinner,” he shrugged, but stopped in mid-motion, wincing slightly. “Bloody vamps,” Tom grunted under his nose. “Remind me to _thank_ Avery for this,” he asked.

“I don’t think I will,” Harry replied teasingly. “I might just forget it, you now, if you plan to grant him your regal Crucio.”

“He still mucked up,” Tom grumbled, “so he needs to be punished.”

“I don’t recall you’ve said anything about Crucio on the menu for these dinners,” Harry retorted. “As I understood they should be more of a friendly social affair, not another Death Eater meeting.”

“You’re right,” Tom sighed. “Here we are,” he motioned towards double doors they came to. “Don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need. There will be several of my people serving us, and you can always ask myself, of course.” He pushed the doors open and strolled inside in sure steps.

‘ _You are not going to use a glamour?_ ’ Harry inquired mentally.

‘ _These people know my human form, there’s no need._ ’ Tom went along the big table to its end where two throne-like chairs were standing. ‘ _You will sit with me, Harry._ ’ His mental tone held no room for argument, not that Harry was going to protest anyway.

Again, like Tom did during the lunch with werewolves, he took out the chair for Harry before taking his own place at the table.

The Dark Lord gave a sign to one of the several masked Death Eaters, acting as servants, urging them to bring food and drinks for everyone still sitting in front of the empty plates, even after forty minutes from the official start of the dinner.

About five minutes passed in silence. Despite the fact that the food had finally been served, no one touched their cutlery, before the Dark Lord took the first bite, washing it down with a sip from his cup.

“Lucius, do you have your wand with you?” the Dark Lord inquired in a low voice.

“Naturally, my Lord,” Lucius replied with a polite nod.

“I shall borrow it then,” holding out his hand, with his palm up, towards Malfoy, said the Dark Lord.

Lucius took out the wand and, holding it by the tip and handle with both hands, gave it to Voldemort with a slight bow.

“Thank you, my friend,” Voldemort purred, taking his wand and lightly swishing it to test the magic. A silvery strand of smoke appeared at the tip and flew towards one of the men, sitting nearby. “Avery, how’s your leg?” the Dark Lord inquired with polite interest.

“I am good, my Lord, thank you,” responded the man with gray shoulder-length hair, nodding. “Our Healer did a splendid work on it.”

“Ah, the Healer. You didn’t mean Algernon, I suppose?” the Dark Lord raised a brow. “I heard he was called to the Ministry.”

“No, my Lord. I met with the Healer Rudy, she was most helpful, thanks to her wast knowledge and experience with magically inflicted wounds,” Avery clarified.

“Theophil, I see you’ve finally brought your son with you?” Voldemort switched his attention to another man at the table. “I recall we discussed him joining the ranks in near future, right?”

“Yes, my Lord. Please, meet my son, Theodore.”

Harry looked at the only young man at the table with surprise, recognition dawning on him at the sight: Theodore Nott was from Harry’s year at Hogwarts. Harry remembered seeing him with Malfoy Jr. several times, so the lad must be from Slytherin, he mused.

“Welcome, young Theodore,” the Dark Lord murmured suavely. “How do you fare?”

“Thank you for asking, my Lord,” the boy replied without a hint of trepidation or fear in his voice or on his face. “I am most certainly good. I must express my sincere gratitude for your help to my godfather, Christophe, my Lord. If not for your timely interference he would have become vampires’ dinner, for sure,” Nott Jr. lowered his head in a deep bow.

“No need, Theodore, no need,” the Dark Lord made a gesture of dismissal with his hand. “I would do the same for anyone in this room, naturally. You’re all dear to me, my friends,” he purred with a sweet smile. “I have a special personal request for you, boy,” the Dark Lord raised a brow, as if asking if Nott Jr. would help him or not, though it was clear for everyone, that there was no room for denial to his so-called “request”, as Voldemort’s tone really implied an ulterior order.

“I am at your service, my Lord,” Theodore responded in kind.

“ _What do you think of him, Harry?_ ” suddenly switching to Parseltongue, asked Voldemort. “ _Will he suffice?_ ”

“ _Will you mark him?_ ” Harry inquired with a hint of interest to his tone.

“ _I may._ ”

“ _And if I asked not to?_ ”

“ _Then he shall remain unmarked,_ ” the Dark Lord responded curtly. “ _It could be useful though._ ”

“ _No. I have three other Knights bearing your Mark. That’s more than enough, I think._ ”

“ _We’ll discuss it at length later,_ ” the Dark Lord concluded.

When Voldemort and Harry began to talk in snake-language, everyone around them stopped chatting even in hushed voices, attentively listening on, probably trying to catch some familiar-sounding words or names.

‘ _Do you think they are scared?_ ’ Harry asked amused, when noticing the tense silence around the table.

‘ _Might be. I suggest you choose couple other Knights, while we’re at it. Severus will leave for Hogwarts shortly and Lucius should attend Ministry more often, too. This leaves only Barty._ ’

‘ _What about this Avery guy? Does he have some exclusive tasks currently? And Theo’s dad looks cool, too._ ’ During their mental conversation, Harry searched the faces of people around the table with an apprising look. ‘ _That guy with scraped face also feels like a powerful wizard._ ’

‘ _Rookwood. Algie’s uncle. He helped with his promotion to become the Unspeakables’ advisor and was one himself in his early years. Avery’s partner._ ’

‘ _Partner? As in ‘sex-partner’, I get it?_ ’ with curiosity Harry spared brief glances to both men in turn.

‘ _Right. Though I find it repulsive, frankly speaking. Augustus was madly in love with Avery’s father from their days at school and till his death,_ ’ the Dark Lord explained. ‘ _Then he transferred his desire to the son._ ’

‘ _Says the man who fucked his own supposed killer, who is more than three times younger,_ ’ Harry remarked snidely. ‘ _Judge not, that ye be not judged._ ’ Harry smirked, feeling the wave of annoyance through the mental link.

‘ _You’re too well-versed in Muggle cliches,_ ’ the Dark Lord grumbled mentally, then turned towards the rest of the people at the table.

“Theophil, Theodore, Augustus, Christophe, I have a personal request for you,” the Dark Lord spoke calmly.

The men, whose names were called out, straightened their backs and then bowed to their leader.

‘ _Talk to them, Harry,_ ’ Tom suggested. ‘ _They need to understand who will be in charge of their lives from this moment on._ ’ Then he continued verbally, “Actually, Harry here has a request for you all.” Tom made an inviting gesture to Harry.

“Gentlemen, honestly speaking, I just sense that your magic is very strong. And I need several strong wizards at my side. So I want to offer you a special post of sorts. You shall be my Knights,” Harry noticed a fond smile appearing uninvited at the faces of the older men, when they heard the familiar title. ‘ _Should I tell the reason?_ ’ Harry threw a brief glance at Voldemort.

‘ _As you wish,_ ’ came the nonchalant reply.

“Maybe some of you already heard of this news, but – ” Harry gulped nervously, sending another glance at Tom, “I am pregnant with the heirs of your Lord. Hence I need several wizards with enough magic to support the babies during my pregnancy.” Harry tried hard not to look at young Nott, who surely should be gaping now, hearing all this. “I don’t order you anything, you’re free to decline with no consequences. If you agree, you shall become a special squad, answering directly to me. Those of you not bearing the Mark shall not receive it, either, unless it is your wish, of course. You don’t need to answer right now. I still have Severus, Lucius and Barty in reserve, just in case,” Harry let out a small smile, remembering Voldemort’s speech during the lunch with werewolves. “I suppose you’d like to talk to them, before deciding. I stress again, this is not an order, but my personal request. The Dark Lord has no say in this,” he sent a warning glance towards Voldemort, who sat with impassive expression, which was almost successfully hiding a satisfactory glint in his eyes. ‘ _You gave me cart-blanche yourself, so –_ ’

‘ _No, no, I am good,_ ’ with a pleased mental smile purred Tom. ‘ _Go ahead._ ’

‘ _Had it turned you on?_ ’ Harry snorted amused, then returned his attention towards the potential Knights. “I won’t put a time limit, but I suggest not to drag the decision on for too long. Impatience is not an exclusive trait of the Dark Lord only,” Harry smirked with a glimpse of an indecipherable emotion in his eyes. “Oh, and Augustus, you may speak with your nephew, as well. Algie became my personal Healer just recently,” he winked at Augustus and lowered his eyes towards his plate in a clear sign of dismissal. ‘ _How did I manage? Did I scared them, too?_ ’ he asked mentally.

‘ _Probably. You’ve certainly surprised them,_ ’ the Dark Lord’s smirk was obvious in his mental voice. ‘ _Poor Theodore almost choked to death on his steak, when hearing about the babies._ ’

Harry tried to suppress the one-sided smirk, threatening to appear at his lips at that.

“Theodore, how’s summer hols?” Harry asked nonchalantly, just to unnerve the young man more.

Nott Jr. startled at hearing his name from Harry’s mouth.

“Uhm, well. I guess,” he said carefully. “Don’t suppose I should ask you this same question, though” he mumbled.

Harry giggled.

“Don’t, please. You might hear something you’re not ready for, yet,” Harry let out a bark of laugh. “Too eventful, I fear.”

Theodore nodded jerkily.

Harry looked at the other men around him.

“Barty, had you searched for that book I asked?” Harry raised a brow at the Death Eater. Barty shook his head.

“No, my Lord Petite Mort,” with a slight smile responded Barty.

Harry winced.

“Lucius, you sure have big mouth, when it benefits you,” Harry grunted.

Lucius tried to smile at that, but his amusement was strained.

“Pardon me, my Lord, I didn’t mean to offend – ”

“Leave it be, Lucy,” Harry drawled, showing his teeth in a nasty smirk, which became even wider, when he saw Malfoy wince at his pet name, invented by Harry with a help of Snape. “If not you, then it might be Algie himself who told everyone of his favorite joke of the Dark Lord,” he shot a glare towards Tom. “Besides, I don’t mind. Got used to it already,” Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Pass the tea-pot, will you?” Harry pointed to the item in question innocently with Voldemort’s wand, drawing several thoroughly suppressed gasps from those around the table who recognized the wand. “My magic is wonky these days, don’t want to spill the tea all over the table.”

Malfoy curtly complied.

* * *

_Grimmauld Place, 12_

  


“Ron, I need to talk to you. It’s important!” Ron was roughly yanked by his shoulder and dragged to a tight space under the stairs of the Black House at Grimmauld Place, 12. Ron turned around to yell at his sister, because only she could be that brave as to drag him around the place by his limbs and get away with only harsh words from Ron, who was usually just rude to everyone, his elder brothers and parents included.

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Well, here was another girl, to whom he was polite, or as polite as he could be, at least. But that was only, because he still hoped to date her some day, so Ron always tried his best with Hermione.

“No need to be so hopeful, Ronald! It’s about Harry – Come to think of it, Ginny needs to hear this, too, so go find her and bring to the attic, so we wouldn’t be overheard.”

“Fine,” Ron grumbled reluctantly. Despite Ginny being his younger sister, sometimes he thought that it was him, who was the youngest in their family, as Ginny was bossy with him the most of all their brothers.

Hermione let out exasperated sigh, pushing her friend in the back towards the door.

“I think, I saw her outside. And make it quick, please, we don’t have much time!” she urged.

* * *

Almost half an hour later Hermione was impatiently pacing the small space of the attic at the very top of the Black house, nervously fidgeting with stuff in her charmed purse every now and then, trying to organize all the books and necessities there, but actually making more chaos than bringing them into order.

“At last!” she cried out softly, seeing two youngest Weasleys finally entering the cluttered room, quietly bickering on their way.

“What is so urgent, Hermione?” Ginny asked gloomily. “Ron said, you know where is Harry – ” she trailed off, her eyes lit with hope.

“No, Ginny,” seeing Ginny’s face falling, Hermione quickly corrected herself, “not yet.”

“Ron!” Ginny raised her voice in anger. “You’ve said – ”

“Be quiet, Ginny,” Hermione whispered. “If we’re overheard – ”

“What does it matter? If it’s some stupid nonsense, I am not listening!”

“Merlin’s beard, girl! It is really important!” despite her annoyance, Hermione nevertheless managed to shout at Ginny in a whispering tone. “Harry really needs our help right now! He is somewhere out there all alone, and can not come back here, because he had very serious argument with Dumbledore the last time he came. Honestly, I am not fond of breaking the rules in general, but glad, that I overheard, when the Headmaster was talking to Kingsley. I am not sure, what got into him, but Dumbledore ordered to catch Harry. Like some criminal! With Stupefy and such! Kingsley tried to argue, but the Headmaster didn’t listen to him! I don’t know where is Harry, but we need to warn him! I am thinking to leave the house to go help him. I thought you need to know.” Letting all this out in one breath, Hermione visibly deflated. “I don’t have the right to ask you both to go with me, it can be dangerous. Though with Headmaster acting like he is, well, this place is not totally safe either, I suppose. So – ”

“Mione, you are out of your mind!” despite the degrading comment the tone in which Ron has issued it betrayed his admiration. “You overheard Dumbledore!” he shook his head in disbelief. “And are going to escape from here,” bright smile threatened to split Ron’s face in half. “Noway I am going to let you go, you know,” he added smugly. “Alone, I mean. I’m going with you!”

“Ron!” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. “I – Thank you!” Her lips trembled. She made a step towards Ron.

“Please, spare me your sappy hugs,” Ginny grumbled. “This all is nice and well, but you’re right. Harry needs to know, he needs our help. And I am coming, too! And don’t you dare start, Ron!” she put her finger in her brother’s face, seeing him opening his mouth to shout at her. “I have grown up! I want to help my Harry! Especially, since he – he – ” she let out a dry sob and shook her head, bringing a hand to her mouth to held in the sounds of her own crying.

Hermione enveloped her in a loose embrace, patting her back gently.

“Sh-sh, I know, I heard them, when he had been here. I heard about the pre-pregnancy,” Hermione sniffed, too. “I get it, that you had listened on as well. We can cry about this later,” she stepped back and tried to collect herself, “but now we need plans. Preparations. Then we’ll move on with them and leave, all three of us. Just promise me something first, Gin?” She looked at the younger girl sternly.

“Yeah?” Ginny squinted her eyes in suspicion.

“You have grown up alright, I see that. I don’t have the right to stop you from coming for Harry. But this situation is very dangerous. Sometimes there could simply be no time or room for arguments, so – ”

“I understand, ‘Mione. I will try not to be a bother,” Ginny gave her a watery smile, “I know, I can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, especially, when it comes to the one Harry Potter.”

“Good!” Hermione beamed at her. “And now let’s plan!”

Three friends moved closer to each other and began discussing their plans in hushed voices.

They never noticed dark shadow, roughly resembling a human figure, which moved closer to them from one of the corners of the attic seemingly of its own accord.

* * *

_Dark mansion_

  


The rest of the dinner with the Inner Circle came by rather peacefully, with Harry quietly conversing with either Snape, Lucius or Barty, who were sitting close to his end of the table. The Dark Lord mostly kept to himself, sparing only occasional glances at his followers, while calmly eating and helping Harry once in while to get salt, tea or sauce, when the boy asked him – sometimes aloud, other times inside their minds, just to test his newly found ability.

After the dinner ended, one of the Death Eaters came up to Harry and Tom’s end of the table.

“My Lord,” he bowed his head.

“What is it, Yaxley? If you want to say again that you haven’t found anything, you could have just jumped out of the window and spared me your pointless report,” the Dark Lord warned with a frown.

Yaxley ran a nervously trembling hand through his hair, and nodded resentfully, after briefly glancing towards the window the Dark Lord hinted at.

“It’s Crucio, Yaxley,” the Dark Lord drawled almost lazily, slowly fingering the newly acquired wand, while raising it at a firing level. “Or do you wish to say something else?”

“No, My Lord,” Yaxley gulped loudly. “We checked every inch of the mansion and grounds. Dungeons. Even the woods outside the boundary. The wand is nowhere to be seen.”

Voldemort let out a dramatic sigh, as if tired, but instead of issuing the Torture Curse, suddenly winced, as if from a sudden migraine, and turned to Harry, who seemed to be immersed into making yet another three Sickles bet with Barty. The Dark Lord’s annoyance was clearly written over his face, but no angry words came out of his mouth. He simply waived a hand in dismissal towards Yaxley and stepped closer to Harry.

“You know, it’s very annoying!” Voldemort grumbled, “I was going to rightfully punish Yaxley – it’s about your wand, by the way! And here you are, singing this silly tune inside my mind,” he said through gritted teeth, his anger rising.

“It looks, like it is you, who bears our children, not me,” Harry observed calmly. “Those mood swings of yours – ”

Tom just wordlessly growled at him. Harry shrugged nonchalantly.

“You can make a scene right here, or we can go talk in private,” he supplied, before leaving silently fuming Tom and going to the exit from the dining hall.

Grating his teeth with such force, that those, who stood nearby, shuddered at the sound, and sending death glares to no one in particular, the Dark Lord followed him.

* * *

“You do realise, how it looked like, right?” Tom grunted, entering their rooms after Harry.

“Like I have you under my thumb?” snorted Harry. “Consider it your punishment for earlier,” Harry gave Tom a toothy grin. “And now we can talk!” he announced merrily.

“Talk?” echoed Tom. “About what?” his mood still remained gloomy. “What has gotten into you?”

“I am perfectly fine! That’s you, who are brooding!” Harry let out a short laugh. “Even though just recently you have been on the cloud nine hearing me ordering your minions around!” He raised his brows suggestively.

“I was not,” Tom protested weakly, but a suave smile, which was gradually growing on his lips, betrayed him.

“And now you are sounding like a five year old!” Harry snickered. “Okay, back to business. I was just thinking – When I saw Theodore at dinner, I remembered something. Hogwarts! I want to attend it – Wait, don’t start yet, hear me out first!” Harry held up a hand with his palm turned towards silently fuming Tom, “Algie is coming soon, we will hear what he says of my health first, of course. And don’t worry, I perfectly remember, he’d said earlier, that we need to stay close to each other for the first trimester. Considering all that’s happened, I’d make it four months, not three, so it should be safe maybe, like, in November.”

“Harry – ”

“I miss my friends, Tom,” Harry made puppy eyes at him. “And I want to finish my education somehow – ”

“Harry, it is absolutely not safe there, right under Dumbledore’s nose, out in the open, among wild teenagers!”

“Tom, I am sure we can arrange something – ”

“Like private tutors here, for example?” acidly suggested Tom.

“Your minions are even stupider, than first years!”

“More stupid,” Tom interjected.

“Oh, so you agree!”

“It should be ‘more stupid’, not ‘stupider’,” Tom clarified.

“And what of my friends? I said already, I miss them!”

“Just moments ago I saw how you sniggered with Barty over some nonsense and laughed with Snape at the face Lucius made hearing the nickname you two have invented for him.” Tom smiled almost fondly.

“Tom, they are adults, hell, they are your servants with their own tasks, they can’t be around all the time!”

“You acquired new Knights just now, who, thanks to your insolence, are tasked exclusively with keeping you healthy and entertained! Are they not enough?”

“Tom, no! Don’t you have friends – Oh, who am I asking? You don’t, right? That’s why you’re so uptight all the time!”

“Harry!” Tom said in warning. “You’re walking on thin ice – ”

“Don’t start, you!” Harry pointed his finger in Tom’s face. “If your nose is too high in the sky, that doesn’t mean others can’t have friends!”

“Potter, don’t provoke me!” Tom growled through gritted teeth, tightly clutching his wand in the white-knuckled trembling fist, but not raising it against Harry yet.

“You know, you can simply say, that you don’t want me to leave,” Harry suddenly said calmly and stepped closer, his chest going in contact with the tip of half-raised wand, head held high and cool green eyes locked with Tom’s furiously sparkling red ones. “That doesn’t mean that I comply, though,” he smiled softly. “I still miss my friends and the only place that I had ever called home – before now, I mean. Because now my only home is where my children can be safe. Under your roof.” He slowly raised on the tips of his toes and reached Tom’s lips with his own in a plain kiss.

Tom stood there, dumbfound, not answering the kiss, but not moving away either, continuing to stare into Harry’s eyes. His hand dropped to the side, wand clattering on the floor under their feet.

Before the kiss could become more heated though, Harry drew off with a soft sigh.

“Like you said earlier, we are not iron-made, Tom,” he murmured quietly, putting a hand on Tom’s chest in attempt to stall him.

Tom flinched at the touch, the ghost of his pain from still not fully healed wounds easily sliding through their firmly established mind link to Harry.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry mumbled embarrassed, removing the hand, “I didn’t mean to – ”

“That’s okay,” Tom responded in low whisper, taking Harry’s wrist in an almost painful grip, bringing it back to his own chest and putting it over his heart with force.

They both shuddered.

“Tom,” Harry’s warning was drowned by Tom’s loud sigh, his breath touching Harry’s lips in a glimpse of a kiss. Tom put his other hand on Harry’s back and brought him closer roughly, squeezing in a tight embrace.

* * *

“Tom, stop!” Harry finally said firmly.

Tom didn’t move away from him, only dropping his forehead on Harry’s shoulder and breathing heavily somewhere into his neck, never releasing his grip on Harry’s back and wrist.

“I am loosing my head with you,” Tom murmured softly between heavy breaths, nails of his hand on Harry’s back digging into the boy’s skin even through layers of clothing from the force, with which Tom hugged him.

“Are you drunk again?” Harry tried for the lighter tone, but failed, his voice laced with worry. He wanted to finish this conversation, not to wrestle drunken, sex-driven Dark Lord again.

“If you haven’t noticed, there was only water in my glass during dinner,” Tom grumbled, finally stepping away from him and looking into Harry’s face again. “Or did you hope for the opposite?” he frowned, not understanding neither his own feeling, nor Harry’s emotions on the matter.

Harry sighed and moved to sit in the chair. It looked like they won’t be returning to the discussion about Hogwarts any time soon.

“Tom, I suggest we make a deal. When we want something from each other – we talk. And not suppose something on our own silently, but hear each other out and arrange something together to solve a problem. How do you like that?”

“I don’t,” Tom grunted. “I don’t talk over things, I order them.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him.

“I am not your servant. Nor I am your enemy any more. Either we are truly equals, or I am leaving right now and you can sod off. Don’t look for me closer than Australia in such case,” Harry pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in provocation.

Tom shook his head.

“You are not going anywhere, while you are bearing my children. Come to think of it, even after giving birth I won’t let you leave. And that’s final. We will not argue over this, talk or else.”

With this Tom turned on his heels and went to the bathroom, loudly slumming the door shut. Seconds later Harry heard a sound of glass shattering and a muffled cry of outrage in there. He didn’t move an inch from where he sat in the chair. He’d let Tom went his anger out, and then they still were going to talk, Harry decided.


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After two weeks of circling around this chapter I have finally found it satisfactory enough for my own taste to at last post the blasted thing and move on to writing and rewriting the following bits of text. I don't have a pattern of posting dates, but hopefully the 12th chapter will be ready in 1-2 weeks from now. Don't quote me on it though, as things do happen - both plotwise and in real life - which can affect my posting timetable).  
> Enjoy!
> 
> * * *

“My Lord, the potion is complete, as is the spell. Should we proceed with negotiations?” Snape quietly asked, handing two scrolls to the Dark Lord. The latter was sitting in a chair beside a fireplace, the floor and small table near him flooded with numerous scrolls and pieces of crumpled parchment strewn over them in thick layers, while Harry Potter was soundly sleeping in the bed couple of feet away. “Won’t he hear?” Snape risked a brief glance at a sleeping form under a pile of blankets.

“Don’t mind him, I’ve put up a Silencing Charm around us,” the Dark Lord waved his hand dismissively. “He is too tired anyway, after yesterday’s events,” he winced, “we didn’t communicate well last night, I am afraid.”

“So, what about negotiations?” Snape raised a questioning brow.

“Will you be able to talk to him and not go for his throat in the process?” the Dark Lord smirked knowingly. “You two have a history between you, I’ve heard. He might just refuse to hear you out.”

“My Lord, I will do my best – ”

“No, Severus. This is important. If something goes wrong, it’s not a matter of simple Crucio, you understand? You can ruin all our efforts. Is there anybody else, who can safely approach him?” the Dark Lord frowned pensively. “Maybe Lucius is more fitting – ”

“Pardon me, My Lord, I don’t think it’s wise. His wife, on the contrary – ” Snape offered.

“Hmm. That can work – But I heard she is out of the country right now – ”

“My Lord, the start of the school year is just around the corner. She never misses seeing off her precious Draco. She should be coming back in couple of days at most.” Snape supplied. “I can contact her immediately, so that she returns even quicker.”

“Good. You can relay everything to her and arrange for their meeting. The sooner we get him the better, so make haste, Severus – Ah, Harry is waking up. You may go now. Warn the others not to disturb us for a while, at least until Algernon arrives. We will eat in private today. You are free to go.” The Dark Lord turned away from the Potions Master towards Harry, who was stirring on the bed, trying to untangle himself from blankets.

  


“Harry, do you need help with those?” Tom asked carefully, though not coming closer to the bed.

Harry angrily yanked on the corner of the blanket in an answer. Tom stepped closer and lifted a hand to help him, but Harry slapped away his hand, stubbornly trying to deal with the bed-clothing on his own.

Sighing, Tom moved out of his way, when the boy finally let himself free and ran for bathroom, promptly closing it in Tom’s face.

Half hour later Harry emerged from there, his face slightly greenish, hair still ruffled from sleep and with dark bags under his eyes. Not looking at Tom he went for the wardrobe, fished random pieces of clothes from it and began to change right in front of the frowning Dark Lord, not issuing a word, or even registering his presence, it seemed.

“When are you going to talk to me?” Tom finally asked, fed up with such ignorance of his persona.

Harry spared him a brief nasty glance, finished dressing up and with an air of independence to him went for the exit from their rooms.

“And just where are you going now?!” The end of Tom’s angry question was cut off by yet another door slammed in front of his face.

‘ _What’s got into you?_ ’ Tom tried to reach for Harry mentally, but suddenly hit a hard wall there. He still felt where Harry was at the moment and sensed a tail of his annoyance through their link, but it seemed that Harry was deliberately blocking him, somehow acquiring the necessary skill and strength of mind to do so in one night. Angrily pursing his lips, Tom went after him.

* * *

To Tom’s surprise, even sensing Harry’s general location, he spent almost two hours searching for him through out the mansion, serving as the Dark Lord’s home and the Dark Order Headquarters at the same time. Even knowing for a fact, that the house was rather small and its halls and rooms numbered, Tom still felt as though he was running through endless corridors all the time without result. After a while he remembered that he had himself shown Harry the gardens, which were bigger in size that the building itself. So he went there in hopes of finding Harry, but instead stumbled upon the sight of Healer Algie, accompanied by Lucius Malfoy, peacefully talking on their way through garden paths towards an unknown aim.

“Algernon!” the Dark Lord barked. “What are you doing here?!”

“My Lord, good day to you!” Algie smiled warmly and bowed low, then waved his hand somewhere ahead of them. “I was told that young Lord is there, enjoying the greenery. I honestly thought I will find both of you there, My Lord,” Algie frowned. “I think I made myself clear: you are not to leave his side before I deem him and the babies healthy enough.”

The Dark Lord growled wordlessly, bodily removed Algie from the path and strode forward to where he finally sensed Harry clearly.

* * *

When Algie and Lucius finally reached a small lawn with flower beds and couple of benches on it, they found Harry and Tom standing there just angrily staring at each other silently, with the air around them crackling with sparks of magic.

“I suggest we retreat, while still can,” Lucius said under his breath. “It is dangerous to be near, when he is like this.”

“The Dark Lord?” Algie inquired curious.

“Potter.”

Algie snorted in disbelief.

“Don’t underestimate him. He almost fried our Lord just yesterday, Sev said.” Lucius warned.

Algie’s brows flew up.

“That is not good for the babies!”

“Try to tell him this right now,” Lucius snorted. “Just wait till I escape to a safer distance first.” He stepped back from the lawn. “I won’t sweep off your ashes if he fries you,” he warned as a way of good-bye.

Algie rolled his eyes at the comment and bravely approached the silently arguing pair.

“Pardon me, My Lords, but fighting is not very healthy for the babies. Or for you two, at that matter. I suggest you make peace before curses start flying around and hit any one of you.”

“Get lost, Algernon!” snarled the Dark Lord, not giving him even a brief glance.

“Later, Algie!” almost at the same moment snapped Harry, who was also still holding Voldemort’s gaze with his own.

Before any of the two actually raised their wands, though, Algie moved in between them with his own wand drawn.

“Either you two stop right now, or – ”

“You dare!” Voldemort roared, aiming his wand at Algie’s heart.

At the same moment Harry grabbed the Healer by his shoulders and moved him behind himself, acting as a living shield.

Going white in the face, the Dark Lord instantly dropped his hand to the side, wand falling to the ground, and took several steps back, stumbling near the bench and almost falling on it in ungraceful heap. He dropped his head on his trembling hands, covering his face with them.

“Harry, are you out of your mind?” he asked harshly, his words muffled by the hands still raised to his face. “It’s a miracle I was able to stop at the last moment! I could have fired a curse! At you!”

“But you stopped.” Harry shrugged dismissively. “I was pretty sure you’d stop at the right time. That was the point, actually. I like Algie here, so I’d be really upset, if you killed him just because he stepped in between us. And while protecting our babies, at that.”

Harry went to the same bench and sat beside Voldemort, letting out a tired sigh. After a moment of consideration he shuffled closer to the Dark Lord and dropped his head on Tom’s shoulder with another sigh.

“Let’s not scare poor Algie even more, hmm? Your brave Lieutenant has fled for shelter, I noticed.” Harry snorted. “You may come up here, Algie, it is safe. More or less.” He snickered. “No one ever knows these days. What’s with our moods swings and all.” He smirked.

“From when you’d started referring to your humble self in royal plural, eh?” Tom snorted, too.

“I meant both of us – you included.” Harry showed his tongue to Tom. “Come on, Algie, I’m dying of curiosity here! How am I faring? And the babies?” Harry motioned to the Healer to proceed with diagnostics. “And check this one too, please. I suspect he is with child as well.” Harry laughed and pushed the Dark Lord in a ribs with his elbow. Voldemort hissed barely audibly, fidgeting on his seat, trying not to show his discomfort – Harry’s elbow got connected with his fresh wounds on the chest instead, possibly by accident. Although knowing Harry already a bit, it could have been deliberate. Tom winced more openly at that thought.

‘ _Good guess, Snake-face. That was my sweet revenge for last night!_ ’ Harry informed him mentally. ‘ _And don’t you make faces at me, I will call you any name I deem fit!_ ’ Tom felt as if Harry again showed him his tongue, mental-wise, and shuddered.

‘ _You sure are a fast learner_ ’, he grumbled, but couldn’t thoroughly conceive his satisfaction on the matter.

“Algernon, how’s Harry?” this time the Dark Lord’s tone was almost polite, if a bit clipped.

“Oh, he is wonderfully recovering! I am surprised actually. From what I gathered, these past days were not very easy both for him and for the babies. You, on the other hand – ” Algie trailed of, suddenly unsure. The Dark Lord frowned.

“What about me, Algernon?” his eyes flashed menacingly. “Who gave you permission – ?”

“Oi, will you calm down already?” Harry interjected in annoyed tone. “Nobody’s threatening you here, Tom! I’d just now asked Algie to check you, didn’t you hear? Or is your health a super top secret for everyone, yourself included? You’re giving me a migraine, you know?” Harry winced. “Please, do continue, Algie. If something’s not right with this moron, I’d really like to know this, as he’s tight-lipped over everything, if it’s not about his precious babies.” Harry pursed his lips and rolled his eyes at quietly growling Tom. “You’re not a dog, Riddle, stop growling,” Harry snapped. “You are human, so deal with it and listen to a good doctor here – So, Algie – ?” Harry again turned to the Healer.

“W-well – ” risking a brief glance at the Dark Lord, Algie snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “I am sorry. This is a matter of patient confidentiality, I can not say anything to anyone, but a patient about his condition – Or of a lack thereof,” Algie quickly added, noticing Voldemort wand-hand twitching and eyes’ color bleeding to bright crimson.

Harry shrugged and smiled sweetly.

“Never hurts to try though,” he chirped. “So back to the babies. How long, do you think, till I can have more action?”

Algie blinked without comprehension.

“Action?”

“Yeah! Moving around, not constantly seeing this idiot’s face and his minions’, flying on a broom, you know? I am tired of laying around and doing nothing! I wanna go see my friends! Hogwarts! I was hoping I’d be able to study with everyone, for a bit at least. When we won’t need to stay in the face of each other all the time, I mean. I understand, that it won’t be too long, as I’d be quickly growing a huge belly and all. But there should be a brief moment, when I’ll have my freedom, no?”

Algie pursed his lips in disapproval.

“It is unadvisable, my young Lord. I understand, you want your fair share of youth, but unfortunately it has ended the moment Voldemort’s seed impregnated you.” Algie cast his eyes down, not bearing the sight of Harry, who was growing more and more gloomy with each one of Healer’s words. “I’d suggest, you cast aside the idea altogether, but suspect, that you won’t heed my advice, and instead come up with some way of implementing your wish anyway.” Algie smiled sadly. “My Lord Voldemort, I understand, that you’d want to protect your children and their bearer, but maybe there is a way – ?”

“You are not our family adviser, Algie,” the Dark Lord growled. “If this is all, you may leave for now. I expect a detailed written report from you, as well. You may even include your observations about myself in there.” With an air of dismissal Voldemort turned towards Harry, who still was leaning on him. “Harry, what is the matter? Why I have a feeling you’re going to cry on me?” Tom asked softly, gently raising Harry’s head by the chin to look him in the eyes, which were filling with tears at this moment.

‘ _I forgive you_ ’, even Harry’s mental tone held a tearful edge to it.

‘ _Huh?_ ’ 

‘ _Your slips of tongue speak volumes_ ’, Harry’s enigmatic response left Tom even more confused.

‘ _What do you mean?_ ’

Harry snickered in his shoulder, although continued to wet Tom’s shirt with his tears at the same time.

‘ _Mood swings, I think_ ’, Harry issued dryly. ‘ _I am not angry at you anymore, but can not stop crying yet anyway. Sorry_ ’.

Tom sighed, patiently waiting until the flood of tears would stop on itself. He’d ask about the reason sometime later. And for now he was content where he was, with Harry sitting near and wetting his shirt with tears, while gently stroking the boy’s back in soothing motions and murmuring relaxing insensible nonsense inside their connected minds.

* * *

Some time later Tom at last found it in himself to move. Gingerly touching Harry by the back of his neck, he tried to lift the boy’s head.

“What?! Don’t say you’ve fallen asleep on me!” Tom huffed in mock annoyance. “Am I that boring to you?”

Harry sighed contentedly and opened his eyes, slowly blinking the sleep out of them.

“It’s your fault I haven’t slept well last night,” he grumbled without real malice to his tone.

“So will you kindly elaborate on what’s gotten into you to make you cry on me again?” Tom inquired. “What had I said?”

Harry shook his head.

“No. You may decide it is a good tactics to make me forgive you all the time,” Harry stuck his tongue out at a sour looking Tom. “And honestly I’m afraid that if I say it aloud, all would just disappear with a puff into thin air.” Harry frowned. “Too scary.” Harry widened his eyes comically in demonstration. “Sorry.” He quickly cast his eyes down just in case, and Tom felt the same mental wall as before going up inside their still intertwined minds, cutting him off quite successfully.

He sighed.

“Harry! I am glad you learned how to raise a mental shield, but don’t think it’s wise to separate our minds, while you’re still recovering – ”

“Nice try,” Harry snorted. “It is not good sport to look into the others’ minds, fishing for things they don’t want to talk to you about.”

Tom had a decency to look ashamed, but continued to push his point.

“I mean it, Harry. This connection between us is really useful, it would be foolish of us not to utilize its advantages. If you don’t want me to know any of your thoughts you can imagine in your mind something like a bookcase with doors and put all you need inside, locking it and hiding a mental key somewhere you’re comfortable with. But, please, don’t cut me off completely.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Tom.

“Fine. But don’t think you’re always welcome in my mind,” he grumbled reluctantly. “I’d like my share of privacy, at least that bit of it, which has still been left for me.”

“Agreed.” Tom solemnly nodded. “And now will you tell me, what get you all worked up earlier?”

“Stubborn Dark Lord,” Harry snorted. “I’d already said, I don’t want to. So deal with it or try to think it over for yourself, smart ass” he winked. “That way is allowed.”

Finally sporting a wide smile on his face, Harry jumped to his feet and left towards the building, almost bouncing on the way.

“Harry, wait – !”

Tom’s call was interrupted by Harry’s cheerful shout.

“Catch me!”

And Harry sprinted away, laughing madly.

* * *

Later on Harry and Tom finally set for long overdue breakfast at the terrace. When food and tea were served and the last of silent Death Eaters left, Harry suddenly smirked.

“I think, we forgot to ask Algie something important.”

“And what that might be?” with a hint of a suggestive smile inquired Tom.

“No, not that!” Harry laughed. “Although, I suspect you’d be asking about this anyway in no time,” he snorted. “Old pervert!”

“Says who?” Tom rolled his eyes. “If I remember correctly, last time it was you who initiated – ”

“Don’t”, his face turning gloomy, warned him Harry. “If you remember, we were arguing then. Don’t ruin the mood now, please.”

Tom sighed exasperatedly.

“Well – Then, what was that important thing you forgot to ask the Healer about?”

“The wand!” Harry blurted out. “You’ve said we can go buy me a new one. Seeing as it was you who lost my old one – ” he trailed of, squinting his eyes pointedly.

Tom slightly blushed, averting his eyes.

“I already apologized, so – ”

“That doesn’t mean the problem is gone.” Harry berated him.

“Is my own wand not to your liking?” Tom raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Not really,” it was Harry’s turn to blush. “I mean, well, yes, it works for me. And I really appreciate the gesture, but – ”

“But what?” with growing anger snapped Tom.

“You see, it’s like this – Everyone knows it is your wand. And – And it has done really nasty things in the past – And – ” Harry lowered his head almost to the table. “It killed. My parents, in particular.” The last bit he almost whispered. Tom flinched, going white in the face, hearing this. “I am not very comfortable wielding a wand, which brought so much evil to so many people,” he mumbled, finally fully putting his forehead on the table and hiding his face from view. Tom still managed to notice, how Harry scrunched his features in an attempt to not start crying again.

Wincing at his own stupidity, Tom stood from his place and came to Harry, took him by the shoulders and turned him away from the table. Descending on his knees at boy’s feet, Tom took Harry’s palms in his own and looked up in his face.

“Harry, I am sorry. I truly am. I am not able to take back that Killing Curse, and have no right to ask you for forgiveness. But I apologize for my being inconsiderate, that I hadn’t thought of this – that you would always be reminded of the most awful moment of your life, when using this wand. I foolishly thought, that I offered you my only valuable possession, my praised weapon and trophy as a token of truce, peace between us, not thinking how you see this stupid rotten stick.” Tom shook his head in exasperation. “I am an idiot to think that any wand, any item at all, can be valued equally to a dead family. I would understand if you want to break it right now and throw its splinters into my face. And certainly I will gladly provide for you everything you need, I’ve already said this. You’d wish for a new wand? I’ll order to bring any wand-maker you’d like to the mansion, so he could create a wand specifically for you without delay.”

“No, Tom,” declined Harry lowly. “That would be another evil deed. I don’t want special services, if they include maiming, torturing or making someone do something they don’t like, or suffer, on my whim. Can we not go to a wand-shop like ordinary people? To simply buy a new wand, not to steal or wrestle it from there?” he asked in small voice.

Tom sighed, then nodded.

“Fine. We shall go. But just this once. And now let’s eat, I hear your stomach’s rumbling,” he tried to lift a mood up a bit.

Harry nodded, sniffing, and held out the yew wand to Tom silently. Tom took it without a word and returned to his own seat beside the table. After a moment of consideration he procured Lucius’ wand from his sleeve.

“Here. At least, for now. Please – ”

Harry sighed, but took the offered elm wand.

“I am not sure that it will answer to me, but fine. For now. Until we go buy a new one.” Frowning, Harry tested Malfoy’s wand. It reluctantly complied, the teapot shuffling across the table, dangerously clumsily, splashing tea on its way.

“You could have asked,” Tom mildly reprimanded him.

“It’s a test,” Harry muttered darkly. “It failed.” He added, when the teapot suddenly stumbled and stopped moving with another huge splash of tea from its nose. “This thing is the same, as its master,” he complained, “Stinky and twisted,” he snorted. “Will you pass another teapot, please?” calmly finished Harry, pointing with stubborn stick towards the second pot. “Afraid, I spilled all of the first one.”He smiled sheepishly.

“Here,” Tom calmly summoned Harry’s cup, filled it and sent back, levitating it with the help of his own wand.

“Thanks,” Harry muttered absentmindedly, looking up and seemingly counting something in his head.

“What are you thinking so hard of?” Tom snorted.

“What date is it today?” instead of answering asked Harry.

“Err, August twenty-something,” with a sheepish smile replied Tom. “I am afraid, I lost track of time completely, when you arrived here with your big news,” confessed Tom with embarrassment, red color creeping up his cheeks.

Harry snickered and rolled his eyes.

“You know, your clumsy compliments begin to repeat,” he jabbed. “But they are cute anyway,” he added quickly, seeing the Dark Lord’s face darkening in more embarrassment. “So, I was just thinking – ”

“I begin to fear your thoughts,” Tom interjected darkly.

Harry smirked.

“So – I was just thinking,” he repeated and stuck his tongue out at Tom’s frown. “It’s the end of summer holidays out there. I think, it is safe to visit Diagon Alley, while it is packed with busy students and parents. We won’t be recognized even if we go like this,” he motioned at his own face and forehead, “you can even wear your snake-like glamour, and nobody would look twice our way! If you charm both of us to look like just anybody else, we can go wand-shopping without any troubles.”

Tom shook his head in surrender.

“I just know we’d run into trouble a minute we step outside my wards,” he muttered gloomily. “But be it your way, I have already promised you ordinary visit to a wand-shop,” he sighed. “I have a condition still.”

“I am all ears,” grinning broadly and bouncing in his seat, Harry nodded eagerly.

“You are to be on constant guard. If I say we leave, you comply with no arguments. Our minds shall be connected all the time, no shields, nothing. And, even though I understand how hard it is to you, you are to hold onto my own wand, while we are out there. We just learned, that Lucius’ wand is hardly working in your hands, so no arguments. Or there won’t be any shopping. I will simply drag Ollivander in here to create you a wand and that will be the end of the argument.”

Harry winced, but again nodded.

“I understand. One race with no wand was enough for me, wandless Apparition truly is a nightmare,” he shuddered at the memory.

“If you spot your friends, don’t go running to them with open arms. I am serious. Who knows, what they were told about you.”

Harry pursed his lips.

“Agreed. They are loyal alright, but can be misled by Dumbledore’s petty schemes and clumsy cunning. He knows I love them and would be missing them, so he can try to use them against me without a second thought.” Harry’s face darkened. “If we go in disguise, they won’t even recognize me, so it’s not a problem.” Still, his face fell. Rubbing on his dry eyes, Harry looked at Tom. “I get it, you’re going to tag your circus with you? Death Eaters, I mean,” seeing confusion on Tom’s face, clarified Harry. “White masks, robes with funny hoods, you know. Like in circus,” he issued a lopsided smirk.

Tom shook his head in negative.

“No. The less people know of our escapade, the safer. I’ll inform only Lucius – ”

“Does he need to know still?” interrupted Harry.

“Why?” Tom squinted his eyes in suspicion. “You seem overly interested in all things Lucius, why is that?” he purred suavely, raising an eyebrow.

“No reason,” Harry shrugged dismissively. “You just said it yourself – the less people know, the better. So why do you need to inform anyone?”

“Lucius is my Lieutenant, as you call him, my right-hand man, my second in command. Of course, he needs to know. But if you insist – ” Tom frowned. “Though I still don’t get it – ”

“Frankly speaking, I don’t trust him,” Harry supplied. “He is too cunning, his smiles are too sweet for me to trust him. Even Snape is better!” Harry’s face brightened. “Can’t you tell him instead? Just this one time? I get it, he is like your second second, right?” Harry snorted at his own words.

Tom smiled at Harry’s antics.

“Fine. I’ll inform Severus and we can leave. I can teach you the same glamour spell I use, while we are at it.”

Harry beamed at him, eyes glinting with mirth.


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankly speaking, I hadn't planned to rush things up so quickly, but after re-reading this chapter for the umpteenth time I finally decided it should stay like this :) Maybe it is for the better - to finally write some action instead of sappy melodrama XD  
> I have about 1/3 of the next chapter written, but a) I'm again not satisfied with it, and b) big summer family time is coming - meaning I'll be spending really little time at my PC and much more time with my mum and later with dad, even going on vacation to the sea-side with them in couple of weeks. I hope I'd have time while there, but am not promising anything.  
> Thank you for your kudos and coments!  
> Enjoy!
> 
> * * *

“Are you sure it’s really stuck? The glamour, I mean,” Harry muttered under his breath, looking sideways at Tom. They both now looked completely unrecognisable, with Harry visibly taller and plumber, sporting wild red mane and freckles and dressed in merry purple robes, while Tom seemed shorter and even thinner than usual, almost skinny, his head shaved, with huge round glasses on a hooked nose, clothed in plain Muggle office suit, complete with tie and suitcase.

“Absolutely. You are really a fast learner,” Tom’s usual chuckle sounded wrong, clashing with his harsh voice and dull appearance.

“I am starting to doubt it was a good idea,” Harry jerked his head nervously. “I think I saw Moody over there just now.”

“Too late,” murmured Tom lowly, looking in the same direction. “Stay near me – ”

  


“Potter! He is over there!” roared Moody at the other side of the street. “Grab him!” he barked, pointing in their direction.

Chaos erupted.

  


Window of the shop they were standing near burst from the misdirected spell. Someone screamed. At the opposite end of the street Harry saw several figures, clad in dark, firing spells at everyone and moving in the general direction of where he stood with Tom.

  


“Anti-Apparition shields are up!” Tom growled. “I won’t risk going through them with you like thi– ” he turned around to where Harry stood just moments ago only to find him missing. “Damn!”

‘ _I’ve said to stay with me!_ ’ he roared mentally. ‘ _Harry?_ ’

‘ _–am okay –_ ’ Harry’s mental reply came as if from a long distance, muffled by it. ‘ _Wai–_ ’

  


Growling low in his throat, Tom instinctively moved his wand, raising a shield to protect himself from any stray spells, frantically searching with his eyes and mind for Harry, not minding his surroundings. He didn’t notice people in black cloaks with raised hoods approaching, before it was too late. The first of their spells went through his shield like hot knife through butter, getting Tom in the chest square and successfully putting him out for a while. When a group of dark-clothed men got to him, though, he was already at the other spot upper on the street, back on his feet and still wildly turning his head from left to right in search for Harry.

  


“Take that one! He was with Potter just now!” unrecognizable voice from under one of the raised black hoods barked an order. “We’ll take him to the Dark Lord as a gift.”

Tom laughed openly, hearing this. They wanted to bring him to – him? Really? And what are Moody and the Order members doing catching Potter, when there is clearly an attack going on? He’ll deal with these black-hooded idiots later, but his first priority were his children and their mother.

* * *

“Anti-Apparition shields are up!” Harry heard Tom growl. Next second someone collided with him, grabbing him by the shoulders and a moment later they both were yanked by a port-key away from all of the commotion on Diagon Alley. And away from Tom, Harry realized with dread.

“No!” he cried out, when he and another person landed somewhere outside Diagon Alley. But, before Harry managed to regain his balance and to look at his captor, he was once again grabbed in a hug and apparated even further away from Tom.

Two jumps through big distances were too much for Harry’s state – immediately after Apparition ended he fell to his knees, throwing up violently, right onto his captor shoes.

‘ _Harry?_ ’ he heard Tom’s mental outcry as if through a wool blanket or through a long distance.

‘ _I am okay,_ ’ Harry tried to reach for Tom’s mind, but was not sure he had enough strength and concentration to manage it. ‘ _Wait a bit –_ ’

“Merlin’s beard, Harry!” Harry recognized the voice – it was one of the Weasley twins. “Sorry, mate, I didn’t know you’re sick,” remorse in twin’s voice was genuine. “You alright there? Need help?”

Harry’s nausea at last subsided enough for him to stop vomiting. He scrambled to his feet and stepped back from the redhead, eyeing him warily.

“Water?” came the second twin’s voice from behind Harry.

Harry whirled around to look at the other redhead.

“Whoa! Careful, Harry,” one of the twins caught him by the elbow, when the room around Harry began spinning from his momentum, trying to drop him on the ground. “Here, you’d better sit,” he was led to a nondescript sofa. “I am sorry, but this was the only way to get you out of there. Old Fart Moody upped the shields at the wrong time, or we’d simply brought you here by one Apparition. By the way, Fred, where did you lost our little brother, huh? He was your duty!” George pointed an accusing finger at his twin.

“He didn’t lost me, moron,” snapping, Ron appeared in Harry’s field of view, a bit green at the edges himself. “I hope, ‘Mione and Gin are okay, though. I am not sure their port-key is strong enough to go through those wards safely.”

“Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll go to Diagon a bit later to check, if they’re still there. If they won’t arrive on their own, of course.” Fred promised. “I won’t be able to do it right now, what’s with those shields and all the commotion over there.” He winced. “Those freaks in black didn’t seem to me like Death Eaters, frankly speaking,” he noted.

“Harry, is it really you?” Ron asked meanwhile, warily looking at a stranger on the sofa.

Sighing, Harry took out Voldemort’s wand out of his sleeve, receiving shocked gasps from all three Weasleys, and carefully removed layers of Parseltongue glamour, hiding his usual features, and put on his old glasses, taking them from the inside pocket of his robe.

“Yeah, it’s me, Ron,” he breathed out tiredly. “What have you done?!” he shook his head disbelievingly, feeling a first wave of weakness overwhelm him already.

“Harry!!!” at this very moment there was a loud crack of Apparition followed by a double shriek, and in a second Harry’s arms were full of two crying and simultaneously hysterically laughing girls.

“Hermione! Ginny!” Harry allowed them their moment of joy.

‘ _Harry – where – ?_ ’ Tom’s mental voice was strained and laced with worry. ‘ _–okay?_ ’

‘ _Tom! I am good! Don’t come yet, please! And don’t kill these idiots, please!_ ’ Harry hoped he managed to reach Tom through who know what distance.

“Guys, I am glad to see you all too, but, really, you shouldn’t have – ” he was interrupted by Ginny.

“Harry, it’s okay! We know!”

“What?”

“We will help! You don’t need to worry, everything will be fine now! Look, I rented this flat,” Hermione waived her hand around, “It’s small, I know, but we’ll manage! There is a small Muggle town outside with shops and everything! If you need anything special, I am sure everyone in here would gladly get it for you! No one will find us here, be it V-voldemort or Dumbledore! Don’t you worry!” Hermione repeated, waiving her hands frantically.

“What?!” Harry raised his voice in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“Harry, we know everything,” Ron nodded gloomily in confirmation. “We heard you and Pomfrey that time. And also ‘Mione heard Dumbledore ordering Kingsley to catch you at any cost,” Ron added even more darkly. “The old man’s gone completely mad, I think, with all his lemon drops and sherbets!”

“We don’t know all of the story, mate,” interjected one of the twins, “But when ‘Mione wrote us asking for help, we prepared these port-keys just in case and were at the ready.”

“And just in time, it seems!” the other twin added, grinning.

“You lot! – ” Harry’s eyes watered. “I really appreciate all this, but – ”

‘ _Harry, I am still waiting!_ ’ Tom’s sudden mental jab made Harry to flinch, distracting him from his customary emotional breakdown.

‘ _Tom, please! Seems, like they are safe. Let me talk to them!_ ’ Harry pleaded.

“Listen, guys, I don’t know what exactly you know, but – ” Harry began.

“Sh-sh, it’s alright, the twins only know, that you’re running from everyone, but we – Ron, Ginny and I – heard your big news,” Hermione gave out a watery smile. “About pregnancy – ”

“What?!” double shout of shocked twins was muffled by Harry’s own.

“Harry, it’s alright, we won’t think of you any less,” Ginny’s weak smile matched those of Ron and Hermione. “We know it was not your fault. It was that awful Death Eater – ”

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry breathed out with relief. “Thank you, all. But if you know – Hermione, I am surprised, that you didn’t turn all the libraries in London upside down in search of information on male pregnancy,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Because if you did, you missed something really important.”

Hermione blushed.

“Harry, I was so worried! There was no time for reading! We needed to act, and quick, before the start of the year, before they dragged us to Hogwarts! I promise you, I’ll read everything there is, when all calms down a bit! I don’t think, there is anything vital in there, differing from normal, oh, I mean, female pregnancies – ” She trailed off, seeing Harry’s face whiten. “What is it, Harry?!”

“The father,” replied Harry in clipped voice. “We need to be near each other at all times. Separation strains our magic and health. Mine and the babies’.”

“Mine, too, it seems,” Tom’s husky voice made everyone jump and turn around towards the door with their wands drawn and their bodies shielding Harry, who was trying very hard not to black out.

‘ _Please, don’t kill them!_ ’ Harry managed, before finally loosing his senses.

  


“Are you – ? The father?” Hermione found her bravery and her voice first, lowering her wand a notch. Tom still looked like he did at Diagon Alley – in Muggle suit, with shaved head and hooked nose, his huge glasses with thick lenses successfully hiding quickly reddening eyes.

He swayed a little, but managed to straiten his back again, never lowering his wand.

“It seems so,” he responded in a harsh voice. “What are you going to do?” the Dark Lord stretched thin lips in a nasty smirk. “Fire a curse at me?”

“You! – ” Ginny shrieked suddenly. “You ra – You violated him!” she swished her wand his way, uttering something under her nose angrily. Ugly purple beam sprang from the tip of her wand and collided with the Dark Lord’s chest not catching on any obstacles on its way. Tom swayed again, hissing lowly and hunching his shoulders in an obvious pain, but didn’t aim his wand at Ginny or at anyone in the room.

“I suggest you allow me to take him to safety first,” uttered Tom in tired voice. “Then I will allow you all to have a go at me,” he chuckled. “If you’d still want it, that is. You can peruse this port-key, if you wish to follow Harry,” he dropped something under Hermione’s feet, then calmly went forward, ignoring their wands, trained on him. Picking Harry up bridal-style, Tom whirled on the spot with a soft crack of Dis-Apparition.

  


Hermione looked around her at dumbfounded expressions of others, while already bending down to pick up the port-key left by a stranger – a silver ring in the form of a skull with snake coming out of its gaping mouth, bearing a striking resemblance to the certain image – the Dark Mark, known to everyone in the Wizarding Britain.

“Are you going or not?” she asked impatiently.

This seemed to wake them from their shock.

“Wait, ‘Mione! It can be dangerous!” Ron exclaimed.

“He took Harry,” she reminded them all. “Should we remain in relative safety here? And anyway that man had already been here, so it is not safe place either! He could have already called the Death Eaters to our doorstep! I am coming for Harry, you can hide in this safety hole, if you wish!” she finished angrily, stretching her hand toward the port-key again. “Well?!”

“We are going!” chorused the twins simultaneously with Ginny.

“Ginny, no!” Ron, who the moment ago was the only one, still not reaching for the port-key, pushed her hand away, jumping in front of her, ready to grab the ring in her place. “You stay here, just in case! As back up!” he quickly added.

  


And a second later Ginny was left alone.

* * *

Hermione landed on a marble floor first, quickly shuffling to the side, so that the others won’t pile atop of her, when they arrive.

She jumped to her feet immediately, frantically looking around – searching for a possible danger and for Harry. She hoped, he truly was here, and that they had not been deceived by that suspicious and ugly looking guy.

She didn’t found anything dangerous around her, but fortunately Harry really was here – he and the stranger in a Muggle suit were both lying on a couch nearby. Or rather Harry was on the couch and the stranger was on his knees beside it, his head lowered onto Harry’s chest, his body unmoving, hands gripping Harry’s shoulders.

“Is Harry alright?” Hermione inquired quietly, approaching the couch carefully.

The stranger didn’t move or otherwise registered her presence. When Hermione stepped closer she understood the reason – the man was unconscious, too. Gasping lowly, she took out her wand and tried to enervate first Harry, and then, when it didn’t work, after a moment of contemplation – the stranger.

He shuddered and loudly took a big gulp of air in his lungs, waking up, wand already trained on her, even before he fully opened his eyes. He stopped at the least moment, dropping the wand to the side.

“Ah, it’s you,” he slurred incomprehensibly. “Wait till he wakes, will you?”

“What?” Hermione exclaimed incredulously.

“Should be any moment now,” not answering her question, clarified the stranger. Then stood up and stretched. “Salazar, this suit is like coffin,” he grumbled, hearing the sound of his clothes tearing.

“You’d better change before anyone sees,” Harry suggested weakly, not opening his eyes.

“Right. The glamour,” the man winced. “Almost forgot.”

Harry snorted.

“I meant the clothes, but – ”

“Harry, we have guests,” the man reminded him.

“What?!” Harry finally opened bloodshot eyes and stared at his friends, now standing around the couch and looking at him eagerly. “What are you doing here?!”

“We came for you, mate,” one of the twins pushed him in the shoulder in friendly gesture. “Thought, you might want some company at the enemy’s lair, you know,” the twin winked at him.

Harry shook his head.

“You guys are crazy, you know?”

‘ _These four don’t know your face, you can change safely,_ ’ Harry observed.

‘ _Can’t,_ ’ came clipped reply.

Harry’s brows arched in bewilderment.

“What do you mean by “can’t”?!” he blurted aloud.

‘ _My magic is unstable. I hardly managed to get us both here in one piece._ ’ Harry noticed a trace of pain in Tom’s mental tone. Before he could ask about it though, Tom swayed on his feet.

‘ _Tom -!_ ’

“’am ‘lright,” Tom slurred, tried to support himself on the back of the couch and once again fell senseless – this time atop of Harry proper, covering him almost fully with his heavy body.

“Fuck!” Harry breathed. “Heavy bastard!” he grunted. “Hey, guys, can you help me -? No, don’t lift him yet. The wand. It’s somewhere under me, I think.” Harry puffing, tried to get to the wand in question by himself.

“Here,” Hermione managed to take the yew wand out from under him. “But Harry, isn’t it – ?”

“Not now, ‘Mione,” Harry replied in strained voice, lifting Voldemort’s wand above its rightful owner’s head and uttering glamour spells in Parseltongue. Almost a minute later Tom again looked like himself except for his suit.

“Move him,” Harry breathed out.

Twins not very carefully lifted Tom and put him on the floor beside the couch.

“Care to explain this all, Harry?” Hermione asked, eyeing the unconscious body suspiciously. “The wand – His looks – This ring – ” she showed him the former port-key, which she picked up, when they arrived. “And what had you said at the flat? About the father needing to be close – ?” She trailed off again, unsure.

“Hermione, if you’d researched beforehand, you’d learn about this,” Harry explained darkly. “In male pregnancies fathers should not be separated from each other, for the first trimester, at least. Otherwise, the lives of both fathers and a child, and their magic, too, are in danger.” Harry let out a heavy sigh. “That’s what I said. I am truly happy to see you all and I really appreciate your intentions, but – ”

“Harry, I am really sorry,” Hermione lowered her eyes in shame. “I should have researched, you’re right. But is he – ?” She glanced at the man, lying on the floor, again. “Is he a Death Eater, Harry?” she winced sympathetically.

Harry sighed. On the one hand, he was glad, that they didn’t recognize Tom yet, especially while he was still out cold. But on the other hand – That was Hermione! If she didn’t pieced it all together yet, it was just because she was shaken by all the events. He didn’t expected from twins or Ron to be smart enough to understand the truth, at least – without her help.

“I will try to tell you all that I can, but let me help him first,” Harry pleaded. “He was already wounded even before, I shudder to think what’s his condition now,” he looked at Hermione with puppy eyes.”Please, Hermione,” when she didn’t react, he added “it’s vital for my health, too, and for this,” Harry put his palm on his own still almost flat belly.

Hermione’s face became ashen with worry.

“Oh, alright, Harry. What can we do to help?”

He slowly sat up and pursed his lips in contemplation.

“Let me think – ”

“Harry, do you live here?” Fred suddenly interjected.

“Yes, why?”

“Only two of you?” George asked tensely, looking out of the nearest window.

“No-o – Oh, right! Thanks, guys!” Harry’s face brightened. “Just, please, give me you wands, for a little while?” he requested in a sugar sweet voice suddenly.

“Wh-why? Harry?” Hermione’s voice hitched, when she finally saw several men in black robes and with white masks on their faces, coming calmly through the main door, like they owned the place.

“That’s alright, ‘Mione. They won’t do anything to you. Just give me your wands. Like – right now!” Harry barked, although she still saw a plead in his eyes.

The first to surrender his wand though was not her, but Ron, immediately followed by both twins.

“Here, mate, I trust you,” Ron grumbled warningly.

Harry nodded, before quickly collecting all of their wands bar Voldemort’s and Lucius’, which was sticking out of Tom’s pocket, and shaking this wooden bouquet in the air in demonstration.

“These are my guests, gentlemen. I advise you to treat them as such,” copying Tom’s regal manners, Harry informed the quickly approaching horde of Death Eaters. “I suggest you put him,” here Harry pointed with his thumb over his shoulder at Tom leisurely, “in his bedroom, before he learns, that you’ve seen him like this,” he smirked evilly, “Also retrieve Algie and bring him here. And I advise you do it all quickly,” still holding the others’ wands in one hand, he trailed the index finger of his other hand along the length of Voldemort’s wand meaningfully, in a trademark gesture of the Dark Lord, chuckling menacingly. “If Snape is on the premises, bring him to me, when he finishes his potions business, of course. We don’t need a loud ‘boom’ to betray our location to everyone listening,” winking at the nearest White Mask finished Harry. When nobody twitched a muscle, he winced, then took in a big gulp of air and barked, mimicking the Dark Lord’s tone, “Move, you imbeciles!”

All the Death Eaters were gone at the drop of a hat in less then a second: some picked up their Lord and hurriedly took him to the bedroom, others scattered in search of either Snape or Algie.

Harrry, who stood up when they came earlier, dropped back on the couch with a tired groan.

“That was something, mate!” Ron exclaimed in awe.

“Harry, just who is this man?” Hermione asked him tensely, over Ron’s words.

Harry looked her in the eyes.

“You already know, don’t you?” he asked with a sigh of long suffering. “You’re too smart sometimes, ‘Mione.” He smiled to soften his harsh words.

“The Dark Lord.” The guess came not from Hermione’s lips, surprisingly, but from one of the twins’.

“George?!” Ron asked, his eyes almost popping out in shock.

Harry raised his head to look with surprise at the smart redhead.

“What betrayed him?” he smiled weakly.

“You,” snorted George. “You wouldn’t dare to boss his minions around, if not for your position here. And the wand,” George pointed at Harry’s hands, one still mechanically caressing Voldemort’s wand.

Harry winced.

“I am not too discreet, am I?”

“Why did you ordered them to take h-him away though? Hadn’t you said just now about the distance between you?” Hermione asked in trembling voice. “Will you be okay?”

“Should,” Harry shrugged. “This house is not too big, so it is rather safe, I think – ”

“I am afraid, not this time, my Lord Petit-Mort,” interrupted him Algie, who just came in. “Pardon me for intrusion, but you need to lay down yourself, and more then preferably – by the Dark Lord’s side. I presume, your friends will not be going anywhere anytime soon, so you can take your nap and necessary time with the father of your babies, before you could resume chatting. So off you go,” Algie tried to shepherd Harry towards the bedroom.

“Babies?!” before he could leave, Harry heard Hermione gasp in shock.

“Yeah,” in even more tired, but very proud tone, replied Harry, smiling. “I’ll tell you everything later, but now I really should be going, I think.” He swayed slightly, but got caught at the elbow by one of the twins.

“We can help you to the bedroom, Harry,” the twin suggested, grinning and wriggling his eyebrows meaningfully.

“It is unadvisable, like Algie likes to say,” Harry snorted. “The Dark Lord doesn’t like strangers in his bedroom,” he chuckled. “Or rather visitors, when he’s sleeping,” Harry snickered. “I’ll ask Severus to arrange a room or two for you all,” he promised, before finally leaving for a bedroom.

* * *

“I am such an idiot!” Hermione plopped on the couch with a groan of exasperation, covering her face with her hands.

Taking advantage of the situation, Ron sat beside her on the couch, putting a hand around Hermione’s shoulders in a hug.

“It’s okay, ‘Mione. Nobody can be smart all the time,” he said in a soothing tone.

Hermione shook her head.

“No, Ron! I could have checked – We’ve put Harry’s life in danger – And the baby – Babies – !” he sniffed.

“Blimey! Who could have thought!” Ron exclaimed grinning. “Harry’s with the Dark Lord’s child. Dumbledore’ll blow a casket!” he snickered.

“Serves him right,” Hermione grumbled. “He wanted Harry to abort it – “ she shuddered.

“What?! No way!” one of the twins gasped. “Poor Harry!”

“That’s why he ran,” Hermione explained.

“As I understand, he would have left anyway,” the other twin noted. “To be with the father – ” he winced. “That must have been awful,” he admitted. “Sleeping with the Dark Lord – ”

“Ugh! George, I don’t need this image!” Ron shuddered, making a rude face.

“Though, it seemed he truly cared – ” Hermione trailed off pensively.

“Who? Harry? Didn’t you hear him? He needed this monster for his own health!” Ron said indignantly.

“No, not Harry. V-Voldemort. Didn’t you see?” Hermione asked. “Harry said, he had been injured before, then I saw him catch a curse while on Diagon, and later Ginny hit him with some spell right in the chest – But he still brought Harry here, not minding his own wounds and not sparing his precious magic for shields, so that he could apparate Harry to safety!”

“If you say, it’s sweet, I might throw up,” Ron grumbled, scrunching his nose in disgust.

She hit him in the shoulder.

“You’re so dense sometimes!”

“What was that for?!” Ron rubbed the sore spot. “You, girls, are strange! This is Harry we are talking about! With V-Vol-You Know Who! It is not sweet, it is disgusting!” He made another rude face at her.

“But he cares,” Hermione muttered stubbornly under her breath. “That’s what matters,” she turned away from Ron. “Hey, where are you going? George? Fred?” she noticed the twins exiting the entrance hall and going deeper into the house. “Come back here! You morons!” She tried to jump to her feet, but Ron grabbed her by the shoulder.

“No, ‘Mione! They are grown up adults, they can fend for themselves. Stay here, please! It’s too risky!”

“Let go, Ron! It’s twins! You know that they are not adults, they are – !”

“Pranksters,” Ron grumbled. “Let them be, please. Those jokers will be okay even without their wands, I’m sure. Harry said, he’d arrange a room for us, so let’s stay here and wait.”

“I don’t know, why are you so calm suddenly, Ron,” shaking her head and sighing, Hermione sat back down. “I am surprised actually, that you didn’t blow a casket yourself, when learnt of this all – ”

Ron shrugged uncomfortably.

“Don’t know. Growing up, maybe?” he gave out a lopsided smirk. “It looks like we exchanged places. So at least one of us needs a cool head,” he snorted, not believing in his own words. “I just – I am worried about you, ‘Mione,” he blushed, but not averted his gaze. “When we became two instead of three and you suddenly took Harry’s place as a leader – ” he smiled weakly.

“And who just now called us girls strange?” Hermione laughed. “We are, as always, in a live or die situation, and you suddenly start to act all manly,” she poked him in the ribs with her elbow. “What’s happened to you all of a sudden?”

Ron fidgeted in his seat nervously.

“Dunno,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Ron – !”

“Please, spare me of your sappy teenage drama!” drawled the familiar voice of their Potions Teacher, who right this moment entered the hall. “Follow me!” he barked, beckoning them with a jerky gesture of his hand. “Where are those mirror monsters? Potter said, they should be here as well,” Snape winced. “Though, I can’t say I will miss them, if they find themselves in trouble,” he grunted.

“He-hello, Professor!” Hermione nudged Ron, mouthing ‘Be polite!’ to him. “Did you see Harry? Is he okay?”

“As okay as he could be,” reluctantly answered Snape, “Sleeping, I think. You’ll see him in two or three hours, maybe. For now you may stay in the library, I’ll send some food a bit later.”

“What of the twins?” Ron asked tentatively.

“I don’t need your help locating them,” Snape pursed his lips. “I’ll bring their cold bodies later, if luck permits,” and with a nasty smirk he left them in front of the library doors.

“De-dead?” Ron stuttered.

“Oh, don’t you know Snape, Ron? It’s his way of joking,” Hermione puffed. “Come on! It’s very convenient to be brought to the library!”

“Oh, don’t you know Harry?” Ron mocked. “It’s his way of revenge!” he snickered. “He won’t let you out of there before you read every book there is on male pregnancies,” he giggled, seeing Hermione’s falling face. “Come on, ‘Mione, I was joking, too,” he dragged her into the room. “Hope, the twins won’t meet too much trouble before Snape finds them, though,” he muttered.

**Author's Note:**

> The usual applies: English is not my native language, though I am quite confident in using it.  
> I have beta, but we're still stuck on one of the other fics (more like I am stuck XD), so this fic again goes to the long que to be edited. I will put a note when posting the edited version. So stay tuned ;-)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cinderella-man](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568225) by [Ellia Bronsky (Ellia_Bronsky)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellia_Bronsky/pseuds/Ellia%20Bronsky)




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